Absolution
Chapter 12
By Nan00k

Important: Okay! So I'm almost done my last few days of undergrad (wooo!), so please pardon my absence. I've gotten a bit of work done for the story, plot-wise, which was a mistake since I finally got around to watching Season 11. So many Wash-feels, guys. We're still lacking a buffer of chapters, but once I'm done final projects and exams in three weeks, I hope to get to writing more so we won't have these pauses any more. Sorry again and thanks for being patient!

Also, fuck you, Season 11, for making me sort-of-ship Tucker/Wash. This wasn't on my agenda.

Today, enjoy a really long chapter full of some talking, angst and a surprise visitor!

.


Warnings: implied slash (parings vary; focus on Doc/Wash, Doc/O'Malley, Grimmons), FOUL language, descriptive violence, AU setting
Disclaimer: Red vs. Blue © RoosterTeeth Productions. Halo © Microsoft. Any original characters found within this story were created explicitly for this story and its prequel.


.

Outpost 17-A
13:52

Coming up with AWOL plans on the fly seemed disturbingly too simple for Washington's tastes.

"Here's the plan, so listen up!" he shouted, before the Reds and Blues scattered in a state of panic. He had only had a few minutes to come up with a solution that wasn't completely crazy. It still wasn't the sanest or smartest plan, but he was hoping that Iowa would back him up. "Half of us will go in the Warthog and the other half will go in the shuttle. This ship's not meant for low altitude flights, so the flight crew will go ahead and then circle back to just outside the Outpost. I'll be directing the ground crew. Church, can you go with the shuttle to direct your team to the base?"

The white AI flickered, clearly emulating a scowl. "Ugh, fine."

"I wanna fly in the ship!" Caboose immediately called out, excited.

"This isn't a vacation, Caboose," Simmons sighed, frazzled, as he helped wrap bandages around Sarge's right shoulder. The older man was in a moderate amount of pain, so at least he wasn't interrupting as much.

"Space! Let's go to the space!"

"Dear God, I so did not miss this," Church muttered.

"Spaaaace!"

"I can only imagine how you have all survived Freelancer this long," Sigma drawled. Her barely-there patience was visibly draining.

Wash barely managed not to roll his eyes. "Iowa, I take it you can fly the ship just fine?" he asked, turning to the other Freelancer, who had seemed to agree with his announced plan.

"Yessir, I can," Iowa said, a little-too-cheeky as Dr. Livingston helped him to attach the AI unit to his back for travel.

Wash would have to take his word for it. "Tucker and Grif, go with the shuttle," he said, looking to each soldier specifically to make sure they were listening. "I want you to learn the controls as you go."

Tucker, as expected, was on the defensive. "Uh, why?"

"Just in case you need to fly it, idiot," Wash snapped. "We can't have only one pilot." He knew the basics of flight, but a shuttle was different than a Pelican. He had to be on the ground anyway this time, helping the Warthog team. There was no way he was letting them split up without at least one capable soldier per squad.

"Are we getting another ship?" Doc asked, tilting his head. Wash bit back a wave of nausea at the sound of his normal voice.

"Maybe," he said, impatiently turning to face the others. "Now, divide up and let's move."

"All this runnin' and no fightin'," Sarge grumbled.

"Sir," Simmons began, sighing again, "maybe we should just take this as a sign its time to move onto the next battle?"

"Hmph."

Tucker still didn't look happy. "How long is it gonna take to get to this place?" he asked.

"Probably around three hours, give or take," Church answered. He flickered. "Aw, cool! I got my own version of MapQuest!"

"The shuttle will likely get there before us, so hide out in the cliffs," Wash said, interrupting him.

Iowa nodded. "The priority will be to destroy the shuttle promptly before it can be tracked. We'll land about a mile from the base. We'll walk the rest of the way."

"Ughhh, can I not be on the walking team?" Griff immediately said, making a face of disgust.

"Grif, just shut up," Simmons said, irritable. They immediately started to bicker until both Wash and Church yelled at them to get moving.

Plans were made quickly, much to Wash's relief. Wash, Simmons, Sarge, Donut and Caboose wound up taking the Warthog. Sigma had finally relinquished possession of Donut in order to return to the AI unit at Livingston's insistence. Iowa, Livingston, Doc (and O'Malley), Tucker and Grif would be on the shuttle, along with the AIs and Church (who was still sticking around in Tucker's suit). Wash didn't like having his team split up or the fact he didn't have any bargaining chips in his squad (having all the AIs somewhere other than where he was was sort of comforting, however). He knew there wasn't time to debate it.

That's why he was mildly surprised when Dr. Livingston moved over to the Blues and peered nervously up at Caboose, who was oblivious to the attention at first. The psychologist then looked over at the green AI hovering at her shoulder.

"Delta?" she asked.

The AI flickered briefly. "Yes, Ada?"

"Will you please accompanying Caboose for the trip?" she asked, surprising everyone within earshot. Wash immediately perked up, both in wariness and confusion.

Delta didn't seem too certain either. Or pleased.

"…I do not understand," he said at length, almost reluctantly speaking.

Livingston frowned. "They may need your help. You know the details about the base and can connect the UNSC database remotely, right?"

There was a long pause where Delta seemed to either be processing her logic or was trying to find a way to disagree with it.

"…yes," he finally admitted. "I understand."

Livingston nodded; she seemed to notice his tension and plowed ahead anyway. At least she was practical. "Caboose…" she began, looking at the confused Blue, before she turned back to the closest Freelancer. "Agent Washington, do you agree with this?"

It was surprising she was asking him, but then again, she wasn't the usual idiot he was used to dealing with. She at least had had some actual military experience, even as a civilian doctor. Still, having her turn to him for confirmation was surprising.

He didn't like the idea of AIs being around him or his men, but it could have been worse. Caboose seemed impervious to the negative side effects of hosting an AI and he seemed to legitimately like Delta and Zeta, which was understandable since they were the mild ones.

Also, the notion of having at least one potential bargaining chip in his reach was mildly comforting. He wondered if Livingston had suggested this for that reason. Probably not. If she had thought of it ahead of time as a peace offering, she was even smarter than he had first thought.

"…Fine," he said. He crossed his arms. "I never had a problem with Delta anyway."

Delta was still flickering faintly with displeasure, but he didn't argue with Livingston. "I am pleased to hear that, Agent Washington," the AI said evenly. He suddenly appeared closer to the Blue solider in front of Livingston. "Hello, Caboose."

Caboose immediately cheered up. "Green man!"

Livingston peered at the much-taller soldier. "Are you all right letting Delta into your suit, Private Caboose?" she asked, speaking carefully. "It would be the same as when Zeta was there with you."

"Sure! I like friends!" Caboose immediately said, oblivious as always. He was practically vibrating. "Can Zeta stay, too?"

The psychologist hesitated and her eyes went back toward the AI containment unit currently attached to Iowa's back. "I'm sorry, Caboose," Livingston said, turning back to him with a sympathetic smile. "We're going on a rough trip. You can only take one of the AIs with you for now."

Maybe she was that smart. Wash frowned deeply when no one was looking.

Caboose wilted. "Awww."

"We'll meet up soon," the psychologist proceeded to say quickly. "You and Zeta can join up once we're at the new base."

As expected, Caboose immediately cheered. "Yaaay!" Wash rolled his eyes.

"Simple fellow, isn't he?" Iowa murmured as Livingston went about helping Delta move into Caboose's armor.

Wash snorted. "On his good days, sure, let's call it that."

All at once, Wash felt a metaphorical shadow encroach on his space. He only then realized how close Iowa had drifted as they watched their mutual comrades get ready to leave.

"Hey," Iowa said, feigning a nonchalant tone.

Wash did his best not to visibly tense up. "Yeah?"

"We got a minute to chat while the kids pack, don't we?" Iowa said, eyes going back toward Blue base. Hint hint.

He was actually surprised that it had taken them this long to get to this point. Wash knew it had been a long time coming. "…yeah," he agreed. He turned and motioned for the other ex-Freelancer to follow him. "This way."

The others would be distracted for at least twenty minutes as the Reds ran to get their supplies and get the battered Warthog trip-ready. Wash had a feeling Livingston would have expected this and would do her best to keep them busy. Wash hoped there wouldn't be any interruptions.

This had been a long time coming, after all.

He led Iowa to the first room they found—a poor excuse for a rec room with no real furniture and now sporting a cracked wall from the battery they had just received from the Pelican attack. Iowa peered around with polite curiosity and seemed bizarrely at ease. Wash proceeded to sit down on top of the crate they had used for a table and watched the other soldier, waiting for the debriefing to start.

"I guess it's time we had our side of the conversation, hmm?" Iowa asked, smiling. He moved and stood opposite of the older soldier. He didn't look nearly as troubled as Wash felt.

The casual attitude only made Wash tenser. He knew that Iowa most likely wouldn't betray them now. It was also unlikely that he'd attack or try to kill Wash either. Still. An ex-Freelancer was an ex-Freelancer. Wash would know.

"I suppose it's overdue," Wash said. He glanced over the other man carefully. "Iowa, huh? When did you join?"

He knew next to nothing about the other soldier. He hadn't heard of the agent before, even during the program, but that wasn't too odd. Those at the top were isolated from the bottom rungs and newcomers. Not knowing about his allies was just as bad as not knowing anything about his enemies.

Iowa seemed undisturbed by the inquiry. "About seven months after you, if my guess is right. Never got high up there in the ranks. You were already top-chart by the time I got through basic."

Wash blinked. "Basic training?" Iowa was probably younger than him, but not that much younger. There was no way Freelancer would have picked a rookie from the bottom of the UNSC's supply of soldiers, anyway. Not unless there was more to the guy than what Wash had already seen.

Iowa laughed at his question. "Well, Freelancer basic training. I was in the 47th before, doing recon mostly. Got scouted by the Counselor four years into my last deployment," he admitted. "Musta been my pretty looks."

Recon work. Probably got picked to do the ground work on missions before higher ranked teams went in. Iowa was a talker, but he was serious enough that Wash could imagine him being a decent soldier. He could at least aim.

He also vividly remembered the outcome of their recent battle. Iowa had finished off the remaining UNSC soldiers and the half-dead Agent Oregon. A killer, then. He supposed having one more on their side was beneficial, considering most of the Reds and Blues were reluctant to actually do real harm to other people. Sarge's occasional bouts of insanity didn't count.

Wash also supposed he was a paranoid bastard and Iowa's training could also be a dangerous thing to ignore.

Whether or not he could tell he was being scrutinized, Iowa continued to appear nonchalant. He sighed and relaxed further against the opposing wall. He tilted his head at the older soldier.

"What're we gonna do about this, Washington?" he asked, almost conversationally.

"You and your girlfriend really don't have any plans?" Wash asked, crossing his arms. He tried to mimic the nonchalant-ness, but he knew that his acting had always been subpar. Iowa at least didn't comment on it.

"No long-term ones," Iowa said. He suddenly narrowed his eyes, a faint warning in his expression for the first time. "And have a bit of respect. She's scared outta her damn mind trying to be a freaking hero to those things."

Wash had little sympathy. He didn't push it, however. "This is why I hate medical," he muttered, almost as an excuse. He looked back out the door with a scowl. "They're all more trouble than they're worth, especially the closer you are to the field."

"And here I thought you did like them," Iowa said lightly.

Wash turned and glared at the other man, who merely stared back, not intimidated.

His impatience was at least noticed. Iowa cleared his throat and sat up properly.

"We need to get low and fast," he said, more serious than before. "This moon's not that big. If we can get to a UNSC base, we can grab another shuttle. They'll be tracking this one."

"Ditch it at the next place we find transport," Wash surmised.

"Exactly." Iowa smiled wryly. "Once we're off-planet, well, sky's the limit, right?"

Wash snorted. "Wrong. If we keep stealing shuttles from the military, we're still too obvious," he said, though he was vaguely certain Iowa already knew this. "Grabbing a ride off Nexus IV in a civilian vessel's the best shot we have."

"I like the way you think," Iowa said, smirking again.

That attitude wasn't quite annoying, but it was beginning to stand out more and more to Wash's paranoia. "You're awfully calm, Iowa," he said, surprising the other soldier.

Iowa shrugged. "It's a survival mechanism. My stomach's all a-flutter, believe me," he said. He paused and then gave Wash a strange look. "We may have some trouble getting a ship big enough."

"Big enough?" Wash repeated, now surprised himself.

"We have ten bodies to fit, not including our ghostly-hitchhikers or AI cargo units," Iowa said, pointing vaguely out the door and at the yard. He paused again and looked uncertain. "Unless you wanna split your guys up on different ships?"

Wash didn't know what his face looked like, but he knew it must have been far too exposed. He looked out at the door, but he could feel Iowa's heavy stare on him. The silence dragged out for just a second too long.

"…you can't possibly expect them not to come with us," Iowa said, breaking it with a careful approach. "Unless you're gonna ditch us or them half-way through this and wait for the UNSC to catch up."

He didn't need to hear that; he already knew that. He hadn't thought about it explicitly like that, but it had been on the back of his mind. All of those men outside the base, fumbling around in fear and uncertainty, were very much on his mind.

There were few options for them. Part of Wash wanted to blame Iowa and Livingston for ruining their hiding spot. Part of Wash also knew that with Freelancer, this had all just been inevitable. If Freelancer had been waiting to get their Director out of jail and back into power, the Reds and Blues had always been on the target list. Now…

There was no other way: either they escaped along with the AIs to split up later under safer conditions…or they stayed behind to await the UNSC or Freelancer.

He wondered if the Reds and Blues even knew what AWOL meant. Sarge definitely wouldn't be able to comprehend it. The others…they definitely wouldn't understand the consequences. Maybe Tucker and Simmons would. As Tucker might say, it was all above their pay grade.

It was also incredibly unfair to them. He wondered if they could comprehend that either.

Reluctantly, Wash looked back over at Iowa, who was still watching him.

"I owe them," Wash said, forcing himself not to stumble over the words. "More…than I want to admit."

"They're your team," Iowa said, almost too sympathetic. It made Wash's skin crawl, though he didn't know why.

He also didn't know why he was saying any of it, at all.

"I lost everyone. Carolina, C.T., York…North," he said, trying to force the words out before they actually meant something. He was trying to justify something, but the more he spoke, the less he understood his own intentions. "I lost them all at once. Watched them tear each other to pieces. I even…had to kill a few of them myself."

Iowa frowned. "Don't blame yourself for the shit dumped on us. The Project self-destructed and took us all—you frontrunners even more than the new guys like me—with it."

"I don't. I know," Wash said, frustrated. He didn't know why he was getting so worked up over this. His eyes went to the door again. "These men have suffered enough because of me and the Director. They're not even real soldiers. They never should have been involved in any of this."

"But they are," Iowa said.

It shouldn't have been that big of an impact to hear it, but somehow, being spoken out loud made it seem far more important.

Wash didn't know what to do. He knew what he wanted, however. He could only hope it was at least partially feasible.

No matter how bitter it made him feel.

"If the axe falls, I want them out," he said, rigidly controlling his expression and tone. "I can get them to help us. I'll make sure they pull their own weight and don't slow us down, but if we get caught, we forced them to help."

He could just imagine Tucker's reaction to that plan. It was a shame the teal soldier didn't have a choice in it.

"They are just idiots," Iowa said, not entirely convincing. "They should be fine."

Wash scowled back at him. "They don't deserve the shit we're going to get." He sat forward, making sure the other soldier was paying attention. "I need you to back me on this. Swear to it now."

Iowa held his hands up in compliance. "I promise, they're pawns the moment our backs are at the walls." Just like his doctor-girlfriend would be, but that was unspoken. "But you need to be prepared for the UNSC not to give a shit."

Promising to get them out alive was an empty gesture. No one could be promised something like that. Iowa would swear up and down he'd cover for them, but he couldn't promise they'd still be saved by that plan. Wash couldn't even promise them that.

"I am," he said. He closed his eyes and tried to push the anxiety out of mind. It didn't work. "I'm not that far gone that I can't hope, though."

"Fair enough," Iowa said, shrugging. He leaned back against the wall and suddenly, his eyes narrowed. "I have a question for you, Wash."

A defensive tension returned to his limbs. "Yeah?"

"When you faked your death at Sidewinder," Iowa began, casual, "you took Church's old armor, didn't you?"

"Yeah?"

"And his name on the roster?"

"Yea…"

Wash stopped.

Oh.

Iowa continued to watch him, eyes unmoved.

"This could be a problem for you, Washington," he said, unnecessarily.

If they were caught by the UNSC, they'd be interrogated. His identity could get him jailed for different reasons than the rest of the simulation troopers.

But more concerning was a basic fact that Wash had missed since Sidewinder months ago: Leonard Church was a marked name. Hiding behind it only protected them due to the total disarray of the UNSC and Freelancer armies up until that point. If he tried to use that alias now, it was a neon sign to the Director as to where the AWOL soldiers were. The disguise was now a great liability.

"Yeah," Wash said, clearing his throat. "Yeah, I know."

Church would probably laugh over this once he found out.

"If we go down, you can't hide behind that name. The UNSC will know about it by then. Freelancer will out you for sure now," Iowa continued. He shrugged. "If you had picked a different name, maybe we could have gotten you out of the line of fire the same way as the Reds and Blues, but…"

"No," Wash said, his bluntness surprising the other ex-Freelancer. "I'm not backing out this time."

Iowa arched an eyebrow. "Not even to live to fight another day?"

That made Wash laugh; the sound choked in his throat. "Fight another day? Iowa, I've been dragging this same fight out for nearly a decade now," he said. He ran a hand over his face and felt his eyes burning. "I'm tired. I am so, so tired."

Did he want to roll over and die? No. But the idea that he had to keep digging and digging to stay alive seemed like a whole new level to his current Hell. He had to keep his team alive. He had to make sure they got out of both their old and new messes in one piece. He didn't…he didn't have the luxury to worry about how visible he was.

He couldn't afford to worry about a goddamn name when they already had a sniper's dot on the back of their heads.

When he looked up, Iowa was watching him with that same careful expression. There wasn't any judgment to be found there, but Wash still felt a wave of irritation hit him. Thankfully, Iowa seemed intelligent enough to stand back properly and return to business.

"Do we have a compromise then?" he asked, grinning.

With that, he had agreed to Wash's terms. Iowa was another Freelancer, but Wash could only hope their mutual desperation meant they could trust each other enough to at least get off that deathtrap of a moon.

Hoping for anything brought an ill taste to his mouth, but Wash knew he didn't have the time to second guess his actions. He just tried to believe in his luck for the first time in years.

"Yeah," he said. "We do."

"Good," Iowa said, seemingly pleased. He held out his hand—just as scarred and calloused as Wash's own when not wearing gloves—and waited. "It's an honor to be working with you, Agent Washington."

Judging by his tone and smile, he probably meant it.

Wash sort of wished he didn't.

"Huh," he said. He smiled back depreciatively and grasped the offered hand in a painful shake. "We need less honor and more luck, Iowa. But here's to doing business with you."

Here's to keeping our respective idiots alive.

0000

Outpost 48
16:59

Outpost 48 was situated south of their location, running up along the sea and cliffs. It had a warmer climate than Valhalla. Ada marveled at both the beauty of the moon they were on and also its chaotic geography. Somehow, that chaos almost seemed perfectly matched for the equally chaotic events that occurred on its surface.

She stood on one of the outcroppings of boulders they had settled amongst along one of the sandy cliffs. It overlooked the sea, but most of her comrades were facing the opposite way, toward where the isolated Blue base was located. The Red base had apparently been destroyed ages ago, leaving the Blue base mostly in ruin and one of the Project's abandoned simulation locations. It made sense that the Director would have placed Church there after Blood Gulch's location had been compromised.

They wouldn't move in toward the base until the team moving in the Warthog arrived. Ada understood the logic behind that; they had no idea if the base was truly empty. Church lacked any real skills to check and O'Malley wasn't interested in investigating it on his own. Waiting for the other half of their squad would give them, if anything, decent back up in case they ran into trouble. Whether that would matter in a real altercation remained to be seen.

Ada also missed Delta's reassurances on the situation, but she, unlike most of her companions, knew how to be patient.

They were all mostly sullen and quiet as they waited, with minutes turning into a half hour and then forty minutes since they climbed up there. Grif has collapsed (mostly in protest, though he was horribly out of shape for a soldier) in the shade and Tucker refused to sit still. It was going to be dusk in an hour or two, so they didn't have much time to wait, unless they wanted to risk a night assault on the base.

"Whew!" Iowa said, sitting down on a rock. He had placed the AI containment unit on the side closest to Ada. "It is hot out here! And to think, there was snow at Valhalla."

"This moon certainly has unique geographical features," Ada acknowledged. It was very muggy. She was tempted to put her helmet back on for the air filter alone, but she didn't like feeling so enclosed either.

Tucker was still incredibly agitated; he had yet to remove his helmet. "Yeah, sure, whatever," he said. "Where is everybody else?"

"We did get here quicker than I thought," Iowa said, shrugging. He, as usual, seemed unperturbed by their situation. As long as there weren't guns firing, he seemed at ease even amongst strangers. Ada was jealous of that skill. "Give it another hour. We'll move into the base once we have our group in order."

"Joy," Church said, bitterly as he floated next to Tucker. "I hated this place."

"You hate everything," Grif accused from the ground.

"Shut up, I hate you, too."

Movement to the side of rocks that led down to the valley caught Ada's eye. She frowned when she saw their purple companion attempting to leave, going God-knew-where.

"O'Malley," she said, reigning in her irritation, "where are you going?"

At her voice, the AI cringed and whipped around. He was undoubtedly glaring at her and seemed angry. At least that was still normal.

"Where I please to, woman!" O'Malley snapped. He abruptly relaxed his stance. "Geez, O'Malley, there's no need to be so rude," Doc said. O'Malley proceeded to take control back, shoulders going stiff. "Oh, shut up."

Iowa gave them both an unimpressed look. "Stay up here. If the base is inhabited, you don't want to run into soldiers alone, do you?"

"Oh, spare me the pretentious soldier routine, Iowa," O'Malley sneered.

"God, I wish I could punch computer code in the face."

Ada sighed and stared back out at the glimmer of blue ocean she could see from their height. "Jason, just ignore him. He's baiting you." She felt like she was babysitting most of the time anymore.

"Yeah, well, maybe he should see what landing a hook feels like," Iowa muttered. Ada sighed at his sullenness. Yes, definitely babysitting.

Before O'Malley could reply (and judging by the hiss he made and how he took a step closer to the group, it was likely he would fall for Iowa's own baiting), Tucker launched to his feet.

"Hey, there they are!" he said, pointing out to their western side.

Ada followed everyone else's example and jumped up to her feet to see where he was pointing. Just beyond the edge of the first sharp turn entering the narrow valley of cliffs, she saw a flash of green. The sound of a motor accompanied it, followed by the sound of…

Music? Folk music?

Iowa slid down the rock face, getting to the next level easily. He motioned for the others to follow, but only Ada (with the AIs) and Grif accepted the help from him to get down. O'Malley snarled something and slid down on his own; his host was surprisingly in-shape. Tucker half-fell down attempting the drop alone, but he recovered quickly as he rushed to meet with the rest of his teammates.

"About time you got here," Tucker shouted as they hurried down the rocky path and came face to face with the Warthog.

"Blame Caboose, as usual," Washington snapped, as he irritably motioned for Simmons to turn the vehicle off. The odd music disappeared as well. "I told you before we left that you only get three bathroom breaks."

"There was a lot of water!" Caboose exclaimed.

"At least we didn't drive through it this time," Simmons said, sighing as he helped Sarge off of the back. The older soldier looked more in pain than he had before.

"It is too blue to look at and makes me need to pee more!" Caboose said, sounding upset.

"How the ever living hell did you survive basic?" Iowa asked the Blue, bemused.

"Jason," Ada said in faint warning as she tucked the AI unit in the passenger seat for safe keeping. Caboose, at least, failed to recognize he was being spoken to. (To be honest, however, she too wondered how Caboose had ever been accepted by the military in any capacity; he was clearly unfit for duty.)

"Sarge needs some painkillers or antibiotics or something," Simmons interrupted, sounding agitated. Sarge made a series of protests over that statement, which were ignored. "We didn't have much to begin with at the bases."

Washington got down from the Warthog and nodded up the incline toward the base. "If they didn't take everything, we'll hopefully find some supplies at the base," he said. He gave Sarge a sweeping look. "Can you walk that distance?"

Sarge, who looked properly offended by the entire conversation, sputtered. "Of course I can walk! What kind of man walks on his arms? Besides Grif's mom, I mean."

Ada looked up at Iowa, who looked back at her with a blank smile.

Huh?

"I never should have let Sister show you guys our family photos," Grif said, complaining. "Most of them were mom's earlier circus acts anyway. She didn't do that all the time."

Huh?

"Just let it go," Wash said, noticing Ada and Iowa's expressions. He shrugged at the Reds and Blues' conversation. "You'll get used to it."

"At least we won't be bored," Iowa said, grinning. Ada just sighed.

Wash took point and began to issue simple orders. "Alright, here's the plan: we're going to approach with a small team to investigate the situation. If there's movement, we'll retreat and encircle the base for better visuals before we confirm any sort of assault…"

Ada knew she should have been paying attention to the plans, but she knew she wasn't going to be headed in first anyway as a non-combatant. She was far more interested in moving over to where Caboose was and retrieving his AI unit. He was sad to let "the Green Man" leave, but with a promise to let him and Zeta play later, Ada quickly reinserted the unit into her own suit.

The tiny little light flashed in the corner of her HUD when she put her helmet back on. She smiled, knowing her friend was listening and apparently waiting for her to speak first.

"Delta, how are you? How was the trip?" she asked.

As she somewhat suspected, Delta took her helmet placement as a cue to keep their conversation relatively private. "As expected, it was uneventful," he said, voice right by her ears, but most likely not traveling much further than that. "Agent Washington directed the Reds and Blues promptly following the map information I forwarded to him. It helps that he has already been to this place, approximately two years ago."

"Good."

"Are you all right, Ada?" Delta asked, probably out of habit.

"Of course," Ada said, chuckling. "Though Iowa needs to work on his landing." It was a good thing they were destroying the shuttle later; it had seen better days.

Delta was quiet for a moment. "Did you destroy the shuttle yet?"

"Not yet. Iowa took out the GPS system while we were en route to Nexus, so the worst they can trace is heat and photon emissions, but we still have those couple days head start to destroy it once we get settled here," Ada replied. She imagined they'd need to know if the base was empty first before they went and blew up their fastest transport. "Since, you know, Agent Oregon said the attack hadn't been given by the UNSC in the first place."

There was another pause. "Indeed," Delta said.

There was something off in his tone. Ada considered it and tried to analyze it.

"…do you think otherwise?" she asked, feeling an odd itch in her gut. It reminded her of their sessions back on the Falcon; she knew what Delta was saying less than what was on his mind.

"Negative," Delta said. "I am merely assessing your trust in Agent Iowa's assessment of the situation."

No matter his neutral tone—Delta's word choices were often his downfall. Ada froze.

"...what?" she asked, startled.

Delta hesitated; she could almost feel it. "What?" he prompted back. The tone betrayed his realization that he had somehow misspoke; he just didn't understand how.

Memories of their later sessions came back. She knew when he was being obtuse on purpose. "That was a…particular comment you just made, Delta," she said, carefully pointing it out. "Why did you ask if I trusted him?"

"I did not ask that," Delta said, a faint shadow of defensiveness rising in his voice. It was uncomfortably reminiscent of their latter arguments during sessions. Ada didn't like it. "I merely said I was assessing the level of trust you particularly have in his assessment of the situation."

Something ill began to settle in Ada's gut. "...any reason why?" she asked, eyes drifting over to where Iowa was, nodding in agreement to whatever strategy they had come up with.

"I trust you, Ada," Delta said simply. To anyone else, his response seemed clear of deception. Maybe it was. Maybe Ada just couldn't tell anymore.

"Oh." Ada tried to smile, knowing they had to focus on more important things. "Well, keep assessing my judgment, Delta, please. I am afraid I am not trained enough to be making trust decisions like this."

"But if you trust him, there will be no issue for you, regardless of training," Delta said bluntly. "Unless, of course, you distrust your trust in him."

The conversation was suddenly becoming a little unbearable. "...which is what you do," Ada said, without thinking.

It was Delta's turn to be surprised. "What do you mean?"

"You don't like that I trust him," she concluded, going on her hunch. "You distrust him, don't you?"

Delta said nothing. Ada bit her lip and tried to will away that ill feeling. They shouldn't have been talking about this now.

"Any reason why?" she asked, almost out of obligation to hear his thoughts, no matter how it made her feel. "He's helped us so far."

"He is a Freelancer, Ada," Delta said, without any real malice. To him, such statements were merely facts. "While Agent Iowa has provided immense assistance to date in our escape from the UNSC and the Director, I distrust not his intentions but his ability to carry it out without being compromised."

"Why?" Ada asked, startled by his line of thought. Why would he think that now of all times—?

"I know what he did to Omega," Delta said.

Ada felt all the blood drain from her face.

"Ada?" Delta asked, surprised.

Ada couldn't speak.

Far away people were calling her. She knew Delta was observing her in silent apprehension. For the life of her, Ada just wanted to curl up and never have had the conversation to begin with.

"Ada, what's the hold up?" Iowa called, further up the path.

Delta appeared in front of her vision. "Do not allow me to distract you," he said. "I can see your increased vital signs. I apologize for upsetting you."

"I..." Ada could only stare at him in shock. "How did you...?"

How did he find out about what Iowa had done? That's what he meant—wasn't it? That he knew Iowa had been the one to tamper with Xi's unit and ensure Omega was placed inside the damaged unit during the presentation? But…it hadn't been Iowa's intent to go that far. He had only wanted to allow Omega to escape easier.

Did that mean that the AIs thought Iowa had hurt Omega on purpose? If Delta knew this much… if he suspected such foul play… didn't that mean Sigma would have figured it out as well? That her line of thinking would also lead her to conclude Iowa had purposely allowed Omega to be tortured like that?

Oh, no, Ada thought, horrified.

Delta glowed faintly. "I am logic," he said, softly. "It did not take long to figure out, from Agent Iowa's behavior and your aversion to it."

Ada just stared at him. She couldn't… this wasn't…

"You okay, doctor?" Simmons asked, suddenly next to her. When she looked toward Iowa further up the incline, he looked concerned.

She couldn't handle this right now.

"Yes, I'm coming," she said, loudly enough that her voice cracking. She looked back toward the AI in front of her. "Delta, we'll talk later." Please.

"If you wish," Delta said, sounding as neutral as ever and that was incredibly painful.

If the trust between Iowa and the AIs was irreparably damaged...

What did that mean about their trust in her, having announced so many times that she trusted in Iowa's help?

This is a disaster, she thought, numbly following after the others as the first team made their approach on the base.

0000

Freelancers were paranoid bastards, but Tucker already knew this after years of exposure to their bullshit.

With some of their guys wounded and a lot of their team either useless or non-fighters as a default, they only left Iowa, Wash, Grif and Tucker to make first contact with the supposedly-empty base. Tucker was somewhat pleased to note he was considered a fighter, but he wasn't pleased to have Wash act like they were reenacting Iojima Harbor or whatever. The stealth walk was a bit much for a valley that was dead-quiet other than them.

Church was also along for the march up to the base and was still acting like a prissy teenage girl about the whole thing. When Tucker had asked if he could scan for life signatures, he had gotten a smart remark about "not having enough harddrive space" to store such technology due to Tucker's, ah, collections. They had bickered quietly on the way up, but Tucker had been surprised by a revelation during the argument.

Church was gradually...not arguing against his robot linage. He still sulked whenever someone made a comment, but Tucker couldn't remember the last time Church had said he wasn't an AI.

...Tucker wasn't sure if that was troubling or not yet. Granted, they had more pressing concerns in front of them.

Wash, at point, had gotten within ten meters of the closed gates, but before he could turn around to motion for Iowa and Tucker to move to the sides for additional coverage, they were discovered.

"HEY! WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

The shout had come out of no where and everyone had jumped. Iowa and Wash immediately backed up with their weapons raised, scanning the empty windows and exposed openings of the base. There was no movement. Tucker's heart was still racing. Grif had nearly fallen backwards in his attempt to find cover.

"I thought you said this place was uninhabited!" Tucker snapped, directing it at Church.

Church also seemed surprised. "Hey, I haven't been here in like two years, asshole!"

"Both of you, shut up," Wash ordered, still keeping his gun pointed up at the base.

Tucker flinched again when the voice came back; this time he could definitely tell it was originating from the watchtower.

"YOU GUYS BETTER NOT GET ANY CLOSER IF YOU'RE NOT, LIKE, ON MY TEAM. I DON'T THINK YOU ARE, SINCE, WELL, YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING BY NOW!"

"Dear God, she's got a set of lungs," Iowa murmured, sounding amused.

He was right on both points: firstly, the chick was loud as all hell, with her voice echoing across the boulder-strewn area. Secondly, it was totally a chick.

"Wait…"

Tucker glanced to the side and was surprised to see Grif standing exposed in the middle of the path. He no longer looked afraid. Instead, the Red appeared…confused.

"SERIOUSLY," the unknown soldier continued from the base, "I'M TOTALLY GONNA CALL THE COPS. STALKING IS TOTALLY NOT COOL! GET LOST!"

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Tucker felt a faint sense of recognition trickle in.

"That voice…" Grif began, almost mirroring everyone else's gradual understanding of the situation.

There was a long pause. In front of them, Wash suddenly and visibly relaxed his aim.

"Oh, my God, no," he said in a hollow voice that stretched into mild horror.

Tucker squinted up at the wall. "Wait a second…isn't that…?"

"What? Who is it?" Iowa asked, sounding seriously out of the loop. He seemed unwilling to put his gun down.

"I'M SERIOUS," the female soldier screamed from the wall, "I'LL CALL THE POLICE!"

Grif looked like he was having a hernia from overthinking. "I know that voice…!"

"THAT'S IT, I'M DIALING!" the person in the base shrieked.

"The military police?" Iowa asked, alarmed.

Wash lowered his rifle completely. "No. That would be too intelligent," he said, sounding like he had swallowed a lemon. "Because that's…"

Grif took two steps forward and literally let his gun drop to the ground.

"Sister? !" he exclaimed.

A yellow head popped out from over the wall. The new soldier tilted her head and then perked up.

"Oh, hey, Grif!" Kaikaina Grif called out. "What're you doing here, big brother?"

"Fuck," Wash said in summary while the Reds and Blues all over the valley promptly spoke up at once.

.


End Chapter 12.


.

Next, both the smart people and the dumb people have parallel conversations about the future.

A/Ns:
-"Iwojima Harbor" – This is merely Tucker butchering the names of the WWII historical events of Pearl Harbor and the Battle of Iwo Jima.
-I remembered you, Sister, even if the canon has not (yet). The irony, tho.
-I unfortunately keep forgetting where the hell I put Sigma every five seconds. Ughhh. There are too many characters, guys, this isn't fair. And it's only going to get worse as the story goes…
-Before anyone asks: yes, I have actually found a place to put S11 characters (Felix and Locus respectively) but it's not in this story. They'd have cameo roles in the What Comes Next saga, which isn't really a saga, but just one-shots I'm using as excuses to continue the survivors' stories. And yeah, "survivors." You really think everyone's making it outta this? That'd be too nice. ;)