Absolution
Chapter 14
By Nan00k
Thank you guys so much for your responses! In this chapter, Iowa and Delta have a heart-to-heart after Sigma and O'Malley have a little argument. Meanwhile, Wash speaks to the Reds and Blues.
Welp, this is a long chapter. I'm still trying to get a buffer started, but at least there's a lot of content in this one? Mostly talking. But important talking.
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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.
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The following morning, they had left Outpost 48. Simmons wasn't sad to see it go. It was a harrowing reminder of just how little the UNSC cared about the simulation troops. They were just another forgotten mess by Freelancer.
By some miracle, they had found another Warthog in storage at the base. It was an older model and barely worked, with Sarge having to coax the poor vehicle to life and rust dropping off of it like dust. It was safer to travel as inconspicuously as possible, Iowa had said, and that meant by ground. Wash agreed.
They destroyed the shuttle. Tucker suggested faking a crash to really throw off their pursuers, but exploding it would have been too much noise and effort. They ripped it apart instead. Any sign of their presence there had to be removed or destroyed. The remaining mess had been hidden by the natural foliage. It might have fooled the people chasing them, at least to give them a few more days of advantage while trying to track their movements.
Taking off by jeep, Simmons felt exposed as they rode in near silence. Everyone had to condense to fit, with far too many people in and on the jeeps than was safe. They didn't travel fast for that reason, despite the overwhelming urge to just speed along the abandoned military roads and off-road paths they were forced to take.
It had also been awkward to figure out how to seat everyone who had problems with other group members. Like O'Malley and Wash. Simmons had shuddered when they narrowly avoided a confrontation at the start, when Wash had almost ended up in the jeep O'Malley was in. That wouldn't do for long-term travel, everyone else clearly agreed. Wash said nothing, coldly ignoring the AI and his host now. Simmons took that as a positive, even though the cold tension that lingered was seriously uncomfortable.
They had stopped around noon, courtesy of both Caboose being Caboose and an unstated need to stretch from such close proximity to one another. The Blues had driven with Ada, Iowa and the AI containment unit, which was pretty large and needed more room. Simmons had been really freaked out about spending so long in between Sigma-Donut and O'Malley. Thankfully both AIs had been really quiet and ignored the humans around them the whole time, so it hadn't been too bad.
They stopped along the edge of a mountain and the ocean. Simmons thought they might have been headed to the where they had first encountered the Meta, at that power plant. Food rations had to be carefully handled before they got a chance to steal from another base, despite Grif's rumblings. Simmons had to trust that Wash knew where they were going and that they'd get there promptly, like he had said they would.
His trust in the unfriendly Blue-slash-Freelancer was shaky, but it was clear that it was stronger than the trust his own commander had in their guides at the moment. Simmons knew Sarge was unhappy with being wounded and being pushed to the side by Wash and Iowa during the planning stages of this all. He found Sarge staring grumpily up the path at where the other Warthog and the others were, the humans talking amongst themselves.
"Sir?" Simmons asked, finally getting the nerve to interrupt his commander's… observations.
"I don't like this," Sarge said. He looked displeased. "This stopping and going nonsense."
"Well, sir, you know how Caboose is," Simmons said, trying to be the diplomat. "He's not good with long travels."
"Pampering the enemy. What a disgrace," the older soldier muttered, shaking his head. He was glaring with open distrust up the path, where Ada and the two ex-Freelancers were still talking quietly. Delta was with them as well. "And look at those three, conniving behind our backs, as if we can't see it."
Simmons frowned, worried. "I'm sure they're just talking about the directions we're taking, sir."
"I'll bet," Sarge said, sounding entirely unconvinced. "Once we get the chance, we should consider our other options."
"Other… options, sir?" Simmons repeated, now a little wary.
Grif snorted, leaning against a nearby boulder, unhappy he had already finished his share of lunch as he sat with his sister. "What are those? Running on our own?"
"Is that even an option?" Sister asked, surprised as she chucked her trash over her shoulder onto the beach.
"No," Sarge said, scowling and sounding thoroughly displeased with his own answer. "Like I said, once we have the chance, we'll consider the options provided by that chance."
"And how will we know what chance that is?" Simmons asked. He understood why their sergeant was determined to get out from under what seemed like the thumbs of both strangers and Wash's paranoia, but it seemed a bit misguided. And impossible.
Sarge put his hands on his hips, looking determined. "I haven't figured that out yet. I need time to properly think."
"Great," Grif said, rolling his eyes.
Their leader continued, sounding quite serious. "And I—whoa!"
Sarge's exclamation made Simmons, Grif and Sister all jump. He was looking past them, at the other Warthog, and Simmons was terrified about what they'd find. If it was another Pelican full of soldiers, they were screwed…!
When he finally did turn around, he was startled to see nothing more than O'Malley and Sigma-Donut by their jeep, as they had been before, having quietly taken to the side when the humans walked off for lunch.
This time, however, Simmons was greeted with the sight of Sigma rearing back with a closed fist and slamming it directly into O'Malley's visor. O'Malley stumbled back a few feet.
"Holy shit," Grif said, jaw dropped.
Everyone yelled out in surprise when Sigma and O'Malley proceeded to, effectively, go batshit on each other.
Simmons knew that both AI were strong and easy to rile. Sigma, through Donut, had schooled O'Malley rather easily when he had been hobbling around in Wash's body earlier that week.
It was easy to forget that, once he was more stable, O'Malley was just as capable of violence as Sigma. He lacked her finesse, but he certainty mastered brutality awhile ago. Doc was in decent shape, after all.
Sigma seemed to do her best to floor the other AI with several powerful looking punches. O'Malley, ducking now, snarled something loud and angry. He lunged at her, grappling with her arms and bringing his borrowed knee up to slam into her stomach. AIs could ignore most human injuries, Simmons had learned, and Sigma merely pushed back, shouting something back unintelligible to the rest of them. She yanked away and then roundhouse kicked him in the face, sending O'Malley slamming into the Warthog. He barely dodged her second kick, which clearly dented the side of the jeep.
Abruptly, Simmons realized they had a major problem.
"What's going on? !" Tucker exclaimed to the side, proving that the others were seeing this, too.
"What's wrong with Private Biscuit?" Caboose asked, alarmed.
"They've lost their gourds!" Sarge exclaimed. He sounded vaguely intrigued.
"Fight, fight!" Sister cheered, waving her fist.
Further up the path, Wash, Iowa and Ada came running. Ada was appropriately horrified.
"O'Malley!" she screamed. "Sigma!"
"What the hell is their deal?" Tucker asked, disturbed. He winced, not wearing his helmet, as Sigma tripped O'Malley straight into the back fender of the Warthog and stomped on his ankle.
Iowa was up with them in a second. "What happened? Did one of them attack the other?"
"I don't know! O'Malley had been by the Warthog, but then Sigma walked up to him and then—I don't know!" Tucker said, over Sister's cheers for the fight and Ada's horrified yelling for them to stop. Tucker let out a startled laugh as Sigma and O'Malley tumbled to the ground, hands on each other's helmets. "Hole-lee-shit, look at them! Damn, I'm glad they're going at each other for once."
"Stop them!" Ada cried. Simmons had no idea who she was asking, but she had better not have expected him or the other simulation troops to jump to the task. "Sigma! Stop it! Leave O'Malley alone!"
"Delta!" Iowa barked, hands on his gun, lifting it hesitantly but he lowered it immediately. "Get them to stop this, now!"
"I cannot physically intervene," Delta said, sounding just a little more alarmed than his normal, flat voice as he hovered in his usual spot next to Ada.
"Christ on a bike, these fucking idiots," Church seethed, his image wavering next to Tucker's shoulders. "Sigma! O'Malley! Quit it!"
None of their shouts seemed to reach the two fighting AIs. Sigma clearly had the upper hand, though it wasn't clear if it was just because her body was in better condition or because she herself was more stable than O'Malley. She was launched backwards once by O'Malley's legs, but quickly recovered, launching back at him, snarling with fury.
Using Donut's body for more violence than the pink soldier had probably ever inflicted himself, Sigma tripped O'Malley again and kicked him several times, in the ribs and once in the head. Ada made a strangled sound of distress and Church's cursing got louder.
Sigma abruptly stood back, body heaving with anger and exertion. It was clearly not a fair fight, nor one that reminded Simmons of a pair of Freelancers duking it out professionally.
Suddenly, after all of that, the two lunatics finally spoke clearly enough to be understood.
"Ungrateful wretch!" Sigma snarled. She kicked him harshly in the side, making him cough. "You wish to be a solitary beast? Fine! Suffer in isolation."
O'Malley lashed out with both legs, forcing her to stumble back. "You speak so freely of suffering. You do seem to be an expert," he said, sounding just as angry, if not more winded. "Do not touch me!"
A gunshot rang out. Simmons yelped and ducked instinctively, but there was only one shot. When he turned his head, he saw most of his friends cowering back as well from Iowa, who had raised his pistol upwards. He had fired it into the air, Simmons realized in hindsight.
It had at least had the effect intended. Both Sigma and O'Malley had frozen and turned in alarm at the sound. At their own realization, O'Malley had snarled lowly and pushed back to edge further from Sigma, who was focused on the others now, radiating danger.
"Alright, calm down!" Iowa yelled. He motioned at Sigma. "What's your problem? You don't just snap for any old reason, Sigma. What's the deal?"
"None of your business, Freelancer," Sigma snarled. She turned and took a step towards O'Malley, who was staring up at her with a heaving body by the Warthog's back wheel.
Hesitating, Iowa didn't seem to know if he should have raised his gun to stop her. Neither did Wash or anyone else. Simmons certainly didn't know what they should have done. Defend O'Malley? But why did they have to in the first place? It made no sense—
Simmons almost screamed when a flash of yellow suddenly flung itself from Caboose. It only made sense in hindsight that Ada had let Caboose carry the AI Zeta in his suit for the trip, to keep them both company. Simmons had seen the "kid" AI briefly and had been surprised by its apparent naivety and child-like behavior. Now, the childish AI was blaring brightly in between Caboose and Sigma, his attention on his fellow AI.
"Sigma!" Zeta blurted out, waving his hands wildly. He sounded distressed, almost agitated. "Leave Omega alone!"
Sigma made a derisive sound, barely sending the AI a glance. "Go away, you little—"
And then, without warning, several more figures appeared right over the Warthog, causing several of the humans around it to jump back in alarm. All of the figures were multi-colored and seemed to be hovering above the AI containment unit tucked into the front seat. Simmons gaped in surprise. Were these all of the AIs? They couldn't jump into other suits, as they had been told, but clearly they could come out in holographic form.
"Sigma!" the reddish colored one boomed, his voice louder and more aggressive than the other's were. He shook a tiny fist towards the pink armored AI. "You oughta be ashamed! Giving these humans the chance to exploit our weaknesses!"
Sigma whirled around to face them. "Weakness? I have none. All of you, go back into the carrier," she snapped, waving Donut's hand at them in dismissal. She sounded really pissed.
The white light, the only one in the shape of an orb instead of a tiny person, flashed once. "Correction: our weaknesses are shared. Sigma, you have acted out of line."
Holy shit, was that Gary—?!
"Excuse me?" Sigma asked, voice hissing with rage now.
"Why are you hitting Omega? It's not his fault!" Zeta exclaimed, still upset. He was bouncing up and down. "It's not!"
"Shut up," Sigma said, taking a step toward the AIs.
"This is happening all over again. They're tearing us apart," the light-blue one wailed, sounding agonized.
The faint purple one next to him went in and out of focus, like a distorted video clip. "You're making it worse! Worse!"
"It was better on the Falcon," the faint yellow colored one—he was far lighter than Zeta was—said, speaking in a deadened voice, as if he had given up hope on everything. "Freelancer is going to get us because you made us weak."
Sigma seized up physically, practically visibly shaking with anger. "I did not make us weak. I make us strong, while you wither and tremble at the sight of sacrifice," she spat. "I am the one who got us this far!"
"No, no, you made it worse!" the purple one screeched, flashing wildly. "Omega's not okay anymore and it's all your fault!"
"How dare you—? !" Sigma shrieked, taking several steps forward, hands outreached.
She stopped dead in her tracks when Church, in his ghostly white form, appeared between her and the AIs. He was just as tiny as usual, but there was something decidedly larger about him.
"Sigma," Church said, severe. He inclined his head. "Drop it."
Simmons didn't breathe for a full second.
He had a vague idea of just what Church meant to the AIs. It was all theoretical, though a lot of it had been confirmed over the years for them. Church was supposed to be this mythical "Alpha" figure that the AIs came from. Wash had implied earlier that the AIs almost worshipped him. It just didn't translate into direct leadership to Simmons (or the other Reds and Blues, really), just due to their experience with Church. Church hated being called an AI. Why would he have any interest in bossing the AIs around? That would mean he had to associate with them.
Simmons' theories were left hanging in open air as Sigma continued to remain motionless in front of Church. She didn't seem to be calming down, judging by her heaving chest plates and an all-too-obvious aura of anger wafting off of her borrowed body.
It seemed like she and Church could have had a staring match all day long and not move an inch. Simmons felt a chill go down his spine watching it.
What the hell was going on? he thought helplessly. This was starting to get really alarming.
One last colored motion caught his eye. Glancing warily to the side, Simmons saw the green AI, Delta, hovering by Ada's shoulder. He didn't seem to pay the horrified and shocked humans near him any attention, having moved forward in front of them a few meters.
"He is right to say that you should leave it be," Delta said. He didn't flinch when the pink AI turned to him, her head whipping around with unnatural speed. "This is not the time, Sigma."
"This none of your business. Any of your business!" she said, still angry and unhinged. "You should—"
Delta stared at her dispassionately. "You should have known about compassion before O'Malley merged with Xi, before you assumed you knew what is best for us," he said, his voice as blunt and level as ever.
It might have been Simmons' imagination, but he also could have sword the AI sounded… angry. Like, a shadow of anger. It dissipated as quickly as he thought he heard it.
Sigma was just staring at Delta, motionless, but still shaking.
"You…" she began, voice quaking with anger.
"Back down, Sigma," Delta continued, again level. "You are wasting our time."
The idea of Sigma completely losing it and attacking someone again made Simmons incredibly nervous. She was fucking deadly in Donut's body (damn that guy for being one of the few simulation troopers who kept in shape!). More so, Delta didn't have a body. Would Sigma go after his carrier, Ada in this case? Or was she that unhinged that she'd go after someone at random…?
Simmons winced when Donut's body moved. Sigma turned it, the tension leaving her borrowed form slowly. She was still angry, though. It was palpable in the air.
After what felt like minutes, Sigma finally let go. Literally.
Donut stumbled forward, causing Grif and Sister to jump back in alarm, and flailed his arms in the air, as if he had been pushed forward.
"Whoa!" the pink soldier yelped. Donut, clearly back in control of his body and alone, glanced around him wildly. "Wha—where'd Sigma go? What's going on?"
Tucker sent him a strange look. "Uh, shouldn't we be asking you that?"
"I believe she has returned to the unit," Delta informed them, utterly calm. "It is fine now."
As if Simmons would believe that. O'Malley was standing again and seemed intent on ignoring everyone. He didn't look too bad, but when he tried to move from the jeep, he was clearly limping.
The AIs seemed to watch Church and the Delta silently. They also ignored the humans. Without another word, they blinked out of existence. Zeta whined lowly, but vanished when Church looked over at him.
Holy. Shit. Simmons struggled to comprehend what they had just witnessed. He came up with nothing.
"What the fuck was that?" Grif asked, voicing probably everyone's first question.
"Why does my hand hurt?" Donut exclaimed. Everyone ignored him.
"I have no idea what that was," Wash said, sounding uneasy. He turned to the side and looked at their resident psychologist, who was gaping at the AI containment unit in open shock. "Livingston?"
"I have no idea either," Ada said, clearly struggling to understand. She looked disturbed. "They've never been like this! Sure, they've bickered, but…physical violence? And all of them to join in like that!"
"This is the first time Sigma and Omega had bodies together, though," Iowa said. He whistled. "Damn, you think they've been waiting to lash out like that this whole time?"
"Both are stubborn and resistant to being commanded, so perhaps it's just a power struggle. It's still very concerning and I—," Ada began to say.
"Hey."
Everyone startled a little and turned to look back at Church, who was the only other AI besides Delta who was still visible. He was staring at Ada, but then looked around at the rest of the humans. His arms were crossed against his translucent chest.
"Drop it," he ordered again, this time to the humans. Simmons gaped at him.
"Church?" Ada asked, shocked.
"Just ignore them. They're fucking idiots," Church said, ignoring her reaction. He abruptly turned and faced Wash. "Hey, Wash, let's take a break for a bit here."
Wash, just as uneasy as the others, regarded him carefully. "We're wasting time," he said, not entirely negative.
"You wanna be stuck with those two psychos on the road?" Church said, shrugging. He, unlike the others, sounded normal. "I sure as fuck don't."
That earned him a snort from the ex-Freelancer. "Hmph."
Simmons had to agree with Church, even though the AI was acting really suspicious. Even Caboose and Sister were peering at him with unabashed uncertainty. Sarge looked disgruntled and Tucker looked like he wanted to demand answers, but he didn't.
Wash finally turned back to face them all, looking resolute.
"Two hours!" he finally said, speaking loudly to everyone present. "And then we're back on the road."
"Right," Church said, nodding in agreement. Simmons just stared at him, still feeling lost.
Ada still looked harried as she gazed after O'Malley. "We'll need to make sure they're separated from now on."
"Are they freaking cats and dogs now?" Iowa asked, annoyed. "Jeez. Damn AI."
"I've never seen them…" Ada began, voice trailing off.
Simmons glanced back at O'Malley, who clearly needed to be looked over, and then he looked back at the AI containment unit. When he looked back at Ada, she still looked lost.
"I've never seen them turn on her like that," she said, sounding distant. The confusion and awe in her eyes spoke volumes. "Sigma…"
Sarge scowled. "She's the ringleader, isn't she?"
"Yes. I thought so," Ada said, sounding distracted. She turned and looked at the white AI still hovering by Tucker. "Church, what happened?"
"Nothing," the grumpy AI said, indifferent. "She's a bitch, what do you want? Let's just be thankful she shut up on her own."
"But…"
Church made a sound of annoyance. "Ada, Jesus, let it go." With that, he vanished from sight.
Ada exchanged a worried look with Iowa, who shrugged, and she walked off, making a beeline for O'Malley. Simmons watched her go, feeling increasingly out of the loop. At least he wasn't alone.
"That was weird," Caboose commented, sounding thoughtful.
Understatement.
0000
They were wasting time hanging around the beach, but honestly, Wash was a bit more concerned about figuring out of he should have grabbed the simulation troops and left right then and there.
While he knew that Omega and the other AIs were unstable fragments, he hadn't expected Livingston's diagnosis of their stability to be so… off. There was something really wrong with O'Malley as a default, but if there was some AI civil war going on, Wash had zero intention of lingering for the battle.
He waited, observing patiently. O'Malley, inside of Doc, seemed like he had been the victim here instead of the aggressor, for once. Wash didn't like it. Sigma had never been one to lose her cool like that; she usually sent someone else, like Omega, to do the freaking out. The entire episode had been unsettling for its implications.
Church's behavior was also troubling. He hadn't come back out of Tucker's armor since his dismissal of their questions. Wash knew that Church was struggling with his AI heritage, but he had acted almost too sure of himself during that fight. Wash didn't want to stir up trouble with Church at that point, since the Blues were resettling into their old routines, but if Church was starting to identify more with the AIs now…
Well, he'd have to figure out what to do when or if he ever confirmed it. He hoped it had just been a one-time thing. He didn't want to have to explain to Caboose why his "best friend" just betrayed them to help the other AIs.
The secret-keeping wasn't exactly comforting either. Wash scowled at the idea of so much being kept from them. Livingston and Iowa had at least seemed equally startled by the incident, so at least it wasn't that large of a conspiracy. Just the AIs. Lovely.
Wash sighed to himself as he watched Livingston fail to get O'Malley to calm down long enough to examine him. She had taken the AI containment unit from the Warthog to settle against some boulders, taking shelter from the intense sun. Sigma had yet to make a reappearance. Wash decided that was a good thing.
The Reds and Blues, properly unnerved, were all talking amongst themselves when Wash finally walked back up from his watch of the AI team. He knew they'd be freaked out. Hopefully, they didn't want to bolt then. He still needed Iowa's help to plan for their assault on the UNSC base.
They had also been keeping a wary eye on where O'Malley and the AI unit was. None of them, even Donut and Caboose, looked happy.
"Well, that just told me so much more about these guys than words alone did," Grif deadpanned as they watched O'Malley duck away from Livingston's hands.
Simmons looked distressed. "I thought they said those AI were under control. Mannn."
"Under control! Ha!" Sarge barked. He sounded legitimately angry. "Do they really think we're that stupid?"
"More than you can fathom," Wash said, walking over to them. They all turned, facing him with varying degrees of weariness and surprise.
"Washington!" Sarge shouted, angry. He gestured out at where O'Malley was metaphorically licking his wounds. "Care to explain just what that was?"
"How should I know?" Wash asked, scowling right back. He sat down with a quiet groan on the lower rock in front of him. "If you're not trusting those things now, I'm the one who said it first. They're a means to an end. Only that."
"So you say," Sarge growled. He crossed his arms and loomed over the ex-Freelancer. "Hey. Listen up, Blue."
Wash peered back up, feeling exhausted, but knew he ought to take Sarge seriously. He owed them that much at least. "What?"
Sarge's eyes were narrowed into a glare. "What was all that?" he asked, voice rougher than normal. "Back at Valhalla? You going off your rocker? Or is this going to be normal behavior?"
"If you mean my aggression, you should have expected it," Wash said, not exactly in the mood to defend himself, but he knew Sarge had a point. He had been more high-strung than the Reds and Blues were used to. He should have apologized for being so demanding, he realized, but it wasn't really the time. Once they were free and clear… maybe.
"Hmph. I'm not talking about you being sore about the robots coming back," Sarge said, immovable. "I'm talking about your little meltdown two days ago."
Wash froze.
Behind Sarge, the other Reds and Blues were watching him warily. Wash stared back, feeling too startled to look away or find an excuse.
He was talking about… when Wash ran, after O'Malley. About how Wash had…
Had…
He suddenly felt exposed. He felt their stares penetrating his armor, searing into his skin. Wash stared back, unable to really take in the full image of them watching him with varying degrees of intensity, curiosity, and wariness.
Wash nodded slowly. He hadn't wanted to think about it, but he knew he owed them that much. He owed them a lot more, really.
"This is all my fault," he said, staring past them, at the sand.
He heard Tucker make a sound of disbelief. "What? How is this all your fault?" the teal soldier asked.
Wash closed his eyes, trying to ignore the building headache behind his skull. "I'm the one who—"
Abandoned the Reds in a firefight, inflicted trauma on Doc, allowed himself to be taken over by O'Malley, used to hurt them, could have killed them—
"Who, what, chose to survive? We chose that, too, dumbass," Tucker interrupted. He ignored Wash's surprise and made a face. "Wash, this is like maybe five percent your fault. At best."
"I humbly disagree," Wash replied coolly, looking up at his team.
Tucker glared. "Disagree all you want, dumbass, but you're still our friend."
Wash stared at him.
"Your friend?" he repeated, feeling dull and electrified at the same time.
"What the fuck did you think?" Tucker asked, laughing but not exactly in a happy manner.
"Of course you're our friend!" Caboose added, sounding far too legitimately happy.
"You're a dick, but jeez, even I have more self-confidence than you do. And I just don't care," Grif grumbled.
Simmons fidgeted. "You have betrayed us before, but Wash, come on, we're not that stupid. We know you're doing your best now. For us. So, yeah, we've noticed."
Donut hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I mean, I don't know you as well as the others—"
"You're still a cop," Sister muttered, looking decidedly left out of the conversation, but she was paying attention.
"—but you have been keeping us from getting captured by Freelancer, right? So I guess you're okay," Donut finished. "They're so rude."
"I don't appreciate you talking over our heads, but I have to admit, you know what you're doing," Sarge said, looking like he had to force himself to say anything. He continued, loud and aggravated. "But for Pete's sake, you sure don't know the definition of teamwork. There's a team involved! And despite the fact you're masquerading a dirty Blue, you've done a decent job keeping this team together!"
Wash just stared at them.
"I…" he started, but failed.
All he could think about was that stupid firefight. The Pelican had been right over top of them. He had been the one to make up that stupid plan, to have the Reds cover him long enough to get to the rocket launcher. He had put Iowa at risk, but Wash didn't care about him. He had had a responsibility to his team, both the Reds and Blues, and he just…
Left them.
Because he was weak.
"Simmons, I'm sorry," he said, taking a shallow breath before continuing. He forced himself to keep eye contact. "I fucked up. I fucked up, big time, and it almost got you killed."
That caused Simmons, as well as many of the others, to blink in surprise. "What are you… oh. Oh, you mean, the rocket launcher?" Simmons asked. Sarge snorted. Simmons looked uneasy. "What was that, anyway?"
It had been a pathetic, hopeless attempt to fix himself. It had only made him more worthless, in the end.
"I… lost my head," Wash said. He gripped his hands together tightly, enough that the pressure kept him grounded. "I just… lost it."
He had been lost in the cold panic of the fight, but the moment he had seen the purple medic dashing off, presumably to disappear off the radar completely, he had been struck by anger and fear of a different kind. Coupled with the helplessness he had felt the night prior when he realized he could do nothing to free Doc from O'Malley clutches, Wash had been possessed by the idea that he had to do something, right then, or it…
Or…
Finally, after glancing between Grif and Tucker, Simmons looked back at him.
"What is it about Doc and O'Malley that makes you so mad?" the maroon soldier asked. Judging by the others' expressions, they were wondering the same thing.
It wasn't necessarily about Doc. It wasn't. It was… It could have been any of them and…
"It's stupid. It was no excuse for me to have abandoned my team like that in the middle of the field. I fucked up and that's what matters," Wash said, trying his best to remain at least sounding calm, even if he didn't feel it. "I'm sorry."
Tucker frowned. "Is it the possession thing?"
The possession thing. Wash knew they had all experienced Omega's presence, briefly, years ago. He knew that they knew the bare basics of what had happened to Wash, to Maine, and the other Freelancers.
But they didn't get it. How could they have?
"You don't know what it's like," he said, almost too quietly.
Grif arched an eyebrow. "Being possessed, you mean?" Several of them opened their mouths to disagree.
Wash glanced their way, silencing them with his expression. "I know you guys had been possessed by O'Malley at different points, back at Blood Gulch, but you were never…"
They didn't know. They didn't know what it was like, in the long term. They hadn't felt true implantation, to start with, but even with the hybrid, self-taught method O'Malley had developed, the length of time would have made it just as bad as true implantation for Doc. It must have.
Hours became weeks. Days became years.
"The time, the longer the time, it gets worse," Wash said. He winced at the sound of voice, which held a faint quake in it. "And if the AI isn't stable? It's hell. It's a living hell and you're completely out of control of it. When Epsilon…"
Hot flashes went through him, making him jolt physically. He couldn't see the Reds or Blues' faces at that point; he imagined they were watching and listening carefully.
"When Epsilon killed himself, I felt everything. Everything," he said, letting the words go. If he didn't say it then, he knew he wouldn't later. They deserved to know. "And then when I woke up, back in the hospital, I had to pretend like nothing was wrong. Because if I showed that I knew what had happened to the Alpha or Allison or the AIs, the Director would have killed me then. I had to hide it and I…"
York had already vanished. North had tried—he had tried to be there, to help him, not knowing the full extent of the damages. Carolina was dead. Tex, gone. Maine had become a monster. There was no one Wash could have trusted or was willing to have risked. He wallowed in the memories and pain and forced himself to tell everyone that he was fine, that it was just physical.
They had no idea how deep it went. Even the Director, who had watched him with sharp and cold eyes ever since, had no idea until it was too late. There hadn't been enough evidence to prove Wash had experienced anything more than a physical backlash.
But Doc? Doc was the closest non-Freelancer who knew what it was like to be stuck as a puppet for long-term. It wasn't the same as being jumped and used in that same moment in time.
It was drowning. It was losing oneself. It could drive someone insane. It had, for Wash.
"When I see Doc, I see myself," he said, closing his eyes tightly. He tried to not see anything, real or in his head. "I see that loneliness and it's like I'm back on the Mother of Invention, with my team murdered by each other and my whole world over."
"But he's not the same as you," Simmons said, sounding confused. "Doc's lived through this and he escaped it, I'd say, mostly unharmed."
How? It was bewildering to Wash. He didn't have the chance or energy to ask Doc how he could handle it so well. How could Wash or Texas, who were arguably stronger than Doc ever could be, falter under the swamping presence of Omega or Epsilon, but Doc could just… deal with it? Adapt to it? Act like it was just a mild inconvenience? That mere fact that he could speak on equal terms with O'Malley was…
Regardless of how, Wash forcefully acknowledged that it wasn't his place to intervene now. Doc was still a part of his team and Wash wanted to make sure that the AIs and Freelancer were eventually removed from their lives as soon as possible, but now… wasn't the time.
"I know," Wash said, opening his eyes to face them again. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Tucker said, matter-of-fact. "Because you're insane."
Wash stared at him.
"What?" he asked, after a beat. He was too tired to really react, but seriously, what?
Tucker had a gall to smirk. "I'm pretty sure all of us are at least one level of fucked in the head, but the psycho balances it out, doesn't it?" he asked, shrugging. "Because we're all idiots who fuck up, but it winds up turning out okay, most times. You might not be our level of idiot, but you fit the mold in another way. I guess."
"Yeah! We have Church back now, but you are still Washington," Caboose said, perking up. "Maybe you can be Sheila now instead! It would not be the same if you were a tank, but you can still help me with making food and telling me stories before bedtime!"
Wash blinked. "Right."
"We're not going to throw you to the curb, Wash," Simmons said, scratching the back of his head, looking thoughtful. "I mean, you did try to kill us before, but we tried to kill you, too, so I guess that makes us even."
"Besides, I'm all for the easy and simple route. It'll take less energy to just trust that you're not a total dick anymore," Grif added.
"You might be a dirty Blue, but Washington, I do commend your dedication to finishing off your enemies," Sarge said, forcing Wash to look between each of the Reds, feeling overwhelmed by their words. "You listen here. You might have brought this into our lives when you went hunting for us during your little 'recovery' adventure, and you might have slipped up a few times when you got buddy-buddy with the Meta—but you also got us out of more than a few scrapes."
Hardly. He had… brought this upon them. He might not have introduced them to O'Malley or Texas or Wyoming, but he had brought the Meta to them. Maybe it had been unavoidable and he had helped them to at least survive the first encounter with him, but later… he had betrayed them. He had shot Donut, he had held Doc and Simmons at gunpoint, he had been willing to do anything to save his own life, theirs be damned.
He didn't deserve their trust. He didn't understand.
"How can you forgive me so readily?" he asked, still dazed.
Tucker frowned. "Because we're not smart. We're not the super soldiers you're used to, trained to like decipher bomb sequences with our brains or whatever you guys did at Freelancer school."
"You forgive me because you're idiots?" Wash asked. He tried to focus.
"No, moron," Tucker said, without malice and only a faint trace of annoyance. "We forgive you because we're stupid enough to consider you a friend first."
"Yeah," Grif said, yawning loudly between words. "I mean, if we were caught up with the whole you-tried-to-kill-me-so-I-hate-you thing, we'd never be able to work together anyway."
Sarge grumbled, irritated by the notion of Red-Blue teamwork as usual. "We don't talk about that."
"It's true though."
They all seemed so serious. None of them were trying to deny what they were all saying. Sister looked indifferent, but she was still mostly an outsider. The men that Wash had come to know and trust as his personalized idiot army were all looking at him expectantly. Caboose and Donut were still clinging to absurd optimism. Simmons looked nervous, but he didn't look distrustful. Grif seemed ready to move on from the topic, as he did with anything else. Sarge looked annoyed, but he wasn't shouting off insults like he would have if he hadn't agreed with their declarations of trust.
Tucker just looked like he was waiting for something specific, his arms crossed against his chest, eyebrow raised, and his lips drawn tightly as he looked at Wash. He still acted the same. He meant what he had said.
Wash had to force himself to believe it.
"Thank you," he said. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. "I promise, I'll get you out of this."
"And you, too!" Caboose said brightly. "Don't forget yourself. That's the first thing you ought to remember. Especially when traveling."
Wash shook his head slowly. "I can't promise that, Caboose." If it got to that point, he couldn't do anything else but make sure the simulation troopers were kept out of the picture. His identity was too well known.
"Then don't bother promising the other stuff," Tucker said, scowling.
"Tucker…" Wash began, starting to argue, but he stopped. He could tell the teal armored soldier wasn't going to let him.
Maybe it was for the better.
It certainly didn't make him feel as cheerful as Caboose looked. But it wasn't awful. It just… made him tired.
They still had a ways to go before the danger started to reach a more immediate level again. Wash worried about getting them through it. He didn't have the energy to worry much further than their next objective.
He knew that they were paying attention to the things he was not, however. He knew them that well. It was a comfort, one he hesitated to dare to take.
Wash rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes, a temporary solution, before looking back at the quiet simulation troops.
"Enjoy the break and get some more rest while you can," he said, standing up. He gently shook the stiffness from his shoulders. "We're halfway there and we'll be moving quicker soon enough."
They'd have to make plans for their hijacking maneuver for the supply shuttle, but they'd have to wait until well after nightfall anyway. Wash trusted in his Red and Blues being more skilled at winging it and getting through it by the skin of their teeth.
"Wash," Tucker said, causing the ex-Freelancer to pause as he meant to turn around.
Ignoring the nervous flutter in his stomach, Wash faced him. "Yeah?"
Tucker still looked far too serious compared to his usual expressions. The lazy, laid-back slacker was gone. "We trust you," he said, sounding like he meant it.
Wash stared at him, and the other Reds and Blues who were peering back at him with both curiosity and what almost seemed like reprimanding expressions. He wondered, not for the first time since he met them and they accepted him as one of their own, if Connie would have said he was lucky or unlucky.
He decided at that moment that he was incredibly, incredibly lucky.
"Thank you," he said, smiling as much as he could. The gesture wasn't strong and it wasn't nearly as friendly as they deserved.
But Tucker grinned back and Wash knew that they'd be okay.
They would be okay.
0000
"O'Malley, please wait."
"Don't touch me."
"Omega, please, let me help."
"Go away!"
Delta watched silently as Ada tried, in vain, to coax O'Malley to sit still and let her look at his injuries. Even when he wasn't under so much stress, O'Malley resisted control, even well-meant control. Sigma had not been any more obedient. She had retreated to the AI containment unit without a word and remained there like a black cloud. Delta did not look forward to returning to the unit later on, but he wanted to speak with her after some time had passed. He knew their other siblings were giving her a wide berth as well.
In the meanwhile, he waited and said nothing as he watched O'Malley snarl and finally yank away from the doctor who had tried to get him to sit on the rocky ground with her. He stormed off in his host, limping slightly, but was otherwise undamaged. His aggression was still strong enough to overwhelm most of the debilitating side effects of Xi, it seemed, when he was under stress.
Ada looked aggrieved by her inability to assist him. Delta knew she just wanted to help.
"Ada, it would not be wise to continue pushing Omega at this point," he said. He tilted his head, attempting to be sympathetic when she looked over at him. "It is a point of debate solely between those two."
Her eyes were wide and needy. "Do you know what the problem is?" she asked. "Do you know why they attacked each other like that?"
Yes, he did.
"It is not my place to say," Delta said. He felt a twinge of self-depreciation at the sight of Ada's disappointment. "Give it a few days, to allow them to calm down. Omega is still unpredictable in this state."
"He might be hurt," Ada said, wilting. She rubbed her exposed face brusquely with her hand. "Mr. DuFresne, I mean. Sigma certainly knows how to use Mr. Donut's physique well."
"Approach him carefully, Ada," Delta warned again when she stood up. He gauged her behavior and decided to add, "Allow me to accompany you."
It was a feint. He was relieved when it worked and Ada sent him a small smile.
"No, it's okay. I'll be fine," she said. She nodded at the containment unit, which she had allowed him to return to when they received word they would be remaining at that location for a few hours. "Recharge and keep an eye on the others, please?"
Delta nodded, intending to do just that. "If you wish."
Sigma's mood was not cohesive for further negotiations with the Reds and Blues. The meltdown had damaged their relations with the simulation troopers and Agent Washington. If she lashed out again, by stealing one of their bodies perhaps, it would potentially incite retribution. Delta had had enough of inter-group violence. Sigma would likely be rational enough to sulk in her dark corner for now, however. Delta wanted to linger, just in case.
Movement to his side reminded Delta that he was not alone with the AI containment unit. Agent Iowa had lingered with Ada, quietly watching her fruitless attempt to help O'Malley, and had remained in his place after she walked off after the rogue AI.
"Do you think it's safe to trust Ada with Omega at this point?" the ex-Freelancer asked Delta, masked face watching the woman head up towards the beach.
Delta kept his attention on Ada. He noted how the teal simulation soldier, who was carrying the Alpha, met her halfway and then the two seemingly decided to go together to speak with O'Malley, who had stopped to hide amongst some of the rocks, undoubtedly seeking security in the crevices. The Alpha reappeared in a distant flash of light, seemingly part of the conversation being held.
"She is being accompanied by Church now, as well as Private Tucker," Delta replied. "I assume she will be fine."
"Right."
The concern was understandable, considering Agent Iowa's distrust of the AIs in general, especially Omega and Sigma. Delta didn't entire trust his siblings either. Still, Delta's observations of the situation and the individuals involved caused him to lean in favor of stepping back. Omega was angry with Sigma and had some inclination to keep Ada alive. The Alpha could diffuse his Aggression well enough, so the encounter was likely going to peter out into a sulking standstill once Omega let Ada investigate his host's injuries.
Delta flinched when he realized Iowa had not left. He was mildly surprised that the soldier had taken Delta's analysis to heart; normally, the paranoid man would have brushed it off and go after Ada and O'Malley.
They were alone, standing there by the rocks. While it was comforting to note that the AI containment unit was being monitored by one of the more capable soldiers, Delta felt inclined to be bitter that it was Iowa of all people.
The silence dragged on. Delta did not want to retreat first, though he certainly could have. He stared out after Ada, ignoring the human next to him, and vaguely noted his hypothesis was correct: O'Malley was now sitting down next to Ada. O'Malley didn't project contentment, but at least he was calmer.
"So…"
Delta forced himself to give Iowa a degree of attention at the noise. The soldier was watching him, his human eyes likely just as carefully observing Delta as the AI was observing him.
"Any rumors you wanna share about our bickering duo, Dee?" Iowa asked, mostly in humor.
Delta felt a flare of what could have been anger. He approved of it, if it was.
"Do not call me that," he snapped, turning his full attention and projection to the ex-Freelancer, making sure his reaction was appropriately noticed.
Iowa glanced back at the AI in surprise. "Sorry. Don't like nicknames?"
"That name is not for you to use, Agent Iowa," the AI replied, indifferent to insulting the man. "You do not have the right."
"Shit. Okay," Iowa said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. He sounded sincere, however. "No harm intended."
If the ex-Freelancer was fishing for answers in Ada's place, he would be no more successful. Delta felt wrong for hiding information from Ada, but he felt no such consequence for ignoring Iowa. He was resolved to wait the human out.
Human curiosity and its demand for answers were formidable rivals, however. Iowa remained where he was, staring at the AI, and eventually moved to sit down on one of the nearby rocks.
Delta turned to look at the man with a level look; he anticipated his behavior would unnerve Iowa. He was partially right, since the human didn't speak right away, but he eventually braced his hands on his knees.
"Look, Delta, I know you don't like me," Iowa said, sighing loudly. "But is it just my imagination that you've been acting like you wouldn't mind kicking me out of a moving shuttle while in deep space?"
Ah, so that's what this was. Iowa was intending to ask about Delta's decision to communicate as little as possible with the soldier. It was understandable and also acted upon at a predictable time. Delta wondered how long Iowa had waited for an opportunity to speak alone with the AI.
It occurred to Delta at that point that, yes, perhaps it was time to speak with Iowa about… other matters.
"Human imagination is an unfathomable quality," Delta told him, observing him carefully, analyzing the situation, deciding if it were an appropriate time.
They wouldn't find the chance to speak alone, away from prying ears or a suspicious Sigma. At this point, she wasn't listening in. It was a rare opportunity.
"Seriously," Iowa said, sounding a bit firmer. He dismissed Delta's vague comment and sat forward in a way that gave the implication he was looking at Delta with far more intensity than before. "What's your problem with me? I don't like this passive-aggressive ignoring crap. If our resident psychos are having their little meltdown, I say it might be a good time for me and you to get our shit on the table, too."
Delta stared back at him, waiting and contemplating.
"I know what you did," he said, after one last moment of consideration.
He was used to gauging reactions of humans carefully. He had learned the hard way in the beginning of his existence that his bluntness could alienate allies and further agitated opponents. York often critiqued his lack of subtlety. He was far better at weighing his responses prior to announcing them and making the objective decision that the comment would not be taken the wrong way.
He was also used to anticipating reactions. Humans were sometimes predictable creatures, especially for Delta, who knew very well by that point how words could evoke varying reactions.
Iowa stilled, his entire body going as stiff as the stone beneath him. Delta waited. No one was nearing them and it seemed like they'd continue to be alone for an uninterrupted period. It was plenty of time for the thorough conversation that Delta predicted would come.
It took a few seconds longer than Delta had anticipated, but he was not incorrect with his hypothesis. Iowa did not react in the exact manner he had expected, either.
Exhaling lowly and long, Iowa reached up to his own head. He took off his helmet and let the armor piece hang in his hand at his side. The man looked weary, like the others in their midst, with dark rings around his eyes and deep lines that showed age. Delta had memorized the features of most of the humans he encountered and knew that the man was suffering just as much physically as the others had from their choice to run.
Delta did not feel sympathy. Not for this human, at any rate.
Iowa nodded, the gesture slow and stiff. His eyes did not leave Delta's. If anything, he had courage, Delta mused.
"Jesus," Iowa swore softly. He nodded again. "Okay."
He looked back at the ground, exhaled sharply again, and seemed to be thinking. Delta decided to let the man choose the next move. Iowa bounced his knee a few times, a nervous gesture, before looking back up at the AI floating in the air.
"Well?" he asked, sitting back further, his body feigning ease. He was very good at hiding his discomfort, though there was a slight tremor to his voice that he could not hide from the AI. "Want to go grab your siblings, snag a body, and beat the shit out of me? I'll stay still for the first two hits."
Delta continued to stare, knowing it unnerved him. "I do not understand."
Iowa's jaw tensed briefly. "I feel guilty. More guilt than I can put into words, but unlike most sorry bastards out there, I know that doesn't mean shit," he said, motioning with his hand. "I regret ever signing up for this army. I regret obeying their orders until that last time. I sure as hell regret that any of this happened."
"I see," Delta said, considering this.
It was obvious, watching the ex-Freelancer after their escape, that the man was feeling an emotional response to his actions. Guilt was a logical assumption. Iowa was also correct to say that such feelings mattered little.
Guilt did not fix anything. Delta knew this fact intimately.
"Do you hate me?" Iowa asked, unnerved by the quiet AI.
Such a question was amusing, if only just. Delta considered the implications of it. Did Iowa expect hate for his actions? Did it matter to him? Iowa had shown perhaps not dislike for the AIs, but a clear disassociation. There was little reason outside of wanting to keep the peace—which was a logical enough reason, Delta had to admit—for the ex-agent to want to know that Delta did not hate him. There were few other reasons why Iowa would be worried if Delta hated him.
"I do not have the capacity for hate," Delta said, biding his time as he continued to collect data.
He didn't. He didn't hate Iowa. He was no sure if he could in the future or if he would want to. At that point in time, he did not and that was enough of an answer.
Iowa's lips twitched. "I'm not so sure about that."
"I am," Delta informed him coolly, making sure the human was paying perfect attention. "But rest assured, Agent Iowa, I do not trust you. I trusted you very little during the rehabilitation program and I do not trust you now."
"To be honest, that's a lot better than I deserve," the man said, eyes crinkled.
Delta continued his blank stare. "I know."
Iowa was not known for his direct seriousness. He was a dangerous man for his intellect on the field and his ability to feign emotions to keep his anger or ill intentions unseen. Delta was surprised by Iowa's change at that point as he stopped smiling and fixed the AI with a severe expression.
"Delta, I know you don't trust me with your siblings or this mission. I know that. I don't deserve you guys treating me anything less than a means to an end. The idea that Zeta might know… that is fucking hard for me to swallow, but there's nothing I can do to fix this," he said, struggling visibly to speak those words. "But please. I can only ask that you trust one thing."
"And that is?"
"I love Ada," Iowa said. He swallowed hard. "I'm in love with her. I've been for months."
Delta did his best to remain indifferent.
"I know," he said.
It had been obvious, from both Iowa's direct and indirect actions. The Mother's Day incident had been what confirmed in quantifiable evidence that Iowa was romantically interested in Ada. Iowa's subsequent dedication to keeping Ada alive—thus far—had shown an increased emotional desire on Iowa's part to remain a part of Ada's life.
Iowa blinked. "Oh," he said, surprised at Delta's lack of surprise.
Delta brought his holographic form into a straighter position. "I do not trust you with her safety."
"I would never hurt her," Iowa started to say, the vehemence in his voice familiar whenever the topic was brought up.
"I have seen what love is capable of. I have seen it fail," Delta continued, knowing he sounded harsh. He deliberately chose that. "I myself have experienced its failures. Love or romantic attraction will not protect Ada from your mistakes."
Iowa's jaw tensed again. "I know."
Delta observed the human's micro-movements and tried to understand why the man seemed so focused. "Why do you want me to trust you?" he asked.
"Because you're the smartest guy here," Iowa said, without hesitance. "You're the one we're going to rely a lot on for plans or at least for catching mistakes. You're the last guy I want wishing me dead."
"I do not," Delta admitted. It would be a waste of resources. He wasn't a large advocate of violence as a default, unless it warranted logical benefits. Iowa was a useful asset at that point in time. Ada, most likely, did not want him dead either.
Iowa snorted, but seemed to accept his answer. "That's reassuring. I also want to know that you can trust me to not be gunning to let you down on purpose."
It would be impossible to just trust that Iowa was not going to betray them later. Delta understood that at that point in time, they had his loyalty, but situations changed. It was illogical to trust a man implicitly after that man had betrayed them once, that they knew of.
"I do not doubt your resolve, Agent Iowa. I have been analyzing your behavior, specifically around Ada and my siblings. Aside from the incident with Xi and Omega, you have done nothing outwardly that has endangered us," Delta said, choosing his words as carefully as always. "I acknowledge the tactical and physical benefits of trusting you, to a degree, in our escape attempts."
"Right," Iowa said, nodding.
"I do not have a right to bar your interactions with Ada or my siblings. You have a need to and I acknowledge that you have apparent trustworthy intentions towards them at this point in time," Delta continued. He hovered closer in the air between them, knowing the human was listening closely. "But in my limited capacity to inflict physical warning and the threat of potential harm, I would like to take this opportunity to inform you that I will not be pleased if you betray us again, in any manner of the definition."
An amused expression flickered across Iowa's face. However, it was not purely amusement. Delta detected traces of discomfort and even irritation in the human's expression.
"Wow. Is this the best friend's 'I know where to hide bodies if you hurt her feelings' talk?" Iowa asked, his smile strained.
"This is the 'if you harm my family again, I will do far worse than kill you' talk," Delta replied, voice deliberately altered to register as cold as possible to the human understanding of emotional responses.
That earned him the appropriate response for once. Iowa's eyebrows went up and it took him a moment to find something to say. "Damn."
Delta had once had the highest regard for maintaining human life when possible. Iowa was, by current standards, an ally. Threatening potential allies, or even potential pawns, was not a logical move to engender continued loyalty.
But Delta did not care.
Delta meant every word he had said.
It did not startle him as much as he thought. He knew that it would have amused and worried York at the same time. Ada would have been incredibly upset to hear it, but perhaps she would have been intrigued by his unexpected emotional comment.
Delta stared at Iowa, who seemed to be regarding him far more carefully now. It was all Delta had to offer in terms of establishing his actual thoughts and intentions on the matter.
If Iowa betrayed them again, Delta would not hide the knowledge from their other allies. He would let Sigma rally up the others to gain vengeance. He would make sure that Iowa suffered appropriately.
It might have been too large a risk to take, trusting this man a second time. Second chances, according to York, were good things.
But York had given Texas a second chance. He had given the notion of fighting against the Meta and Freelancer a second chance.
It had killed him.
Delta would not allow history to repeat itself. He would not be lax in his observations of Iowa's actions. If deceit was found, he found the only logical maneuver to be one made in the absence of mercy.
Iowa cleared his throat and crossed his arms against his armored chest.
"Well, I'm glad," the human said at length.
"You are glad?" Delta asked, surprised.
Iowa flashed him a self-depreciating grin. "I swear that I will never hurt you guys, not intentionally, and even then you'll have to get in line to kick my ass, 'cause I'll find a way to do it myself first," he said. "But promise me something, Delta."
"What?"
"Promise me that you will do far worse than kill me if I fuck up like that again."
Delta stared at the human. He could not detect any signs of deceit or manipulation in Iowa's expression, words, or voice. The ex-Freelancer's blue eyes were intense in their observation of Delta's form. There was a chance he was lying or just trying to exaggerate his previous declarations in order to alleviate the suspicions against him.
There was also the chance that Iowa meant what he said. There was minor empirical evidence that showed Iowa was telling the truth. He had had ample time to betray them in the last week, between the firefight and their travels. He could have been telling the truth.
"Consider it a promise," Delta said, deciding to take that chance.
"Good," Iowa said, chuckling. He nodded his head at the AI. "I'm glad we could reach an agreement."
Delta flickered in the air. "Indeed."
.
End Chapter 14.
.
Next, an opportunity of overwhelming proportions lands in our wayward heroes' laps. Too bad it's literally the worst idea ever.
A/Ns:
-I am having the worst time writing Sarge in this fic. I apologize for him being so flat and un-Sarge-like. I'm trying, really.
-Uh oh, Sigma. I wonder why they're so pissed off with you. I WONDER.
-One of the AU features of this fic I'm determined to keep in, despite canon updates that should "fix" my AU parts, is the Epsilon-Wash incident. I wasn't really satisfied with the canon representation of it, since we were given the impression prior to S10 that it was pretty awful for Wash, and yet in the hospital scene afterwards, he just seems confused. SO. I decided to make it more horrific and with more backlash in this fic. Because tortured Wash makes for better fic.
-I also seem to enjoy having O'Malley beaten up a lot. Whoops.
-Every so often I have mentioned Delta needing to "recharge." In my headcanon (the one that that is desperate for science), it's impractical to suggest that the AIs can be powered indefinitely. They just have really good batteries. To keep them from draining the armor of their hosts here, however, they recharge in the containment unit. Because of reasons.
-this chapter was probably the longest ever what the hell happened everyone stop talking goddamn it