A/N: Another collaboration with Regnasis on DeviantArt, this time I beat him to posting LOL. More from Wash, he just keeps sharing. Thanks goes to Martienne for the review, it's good to know those 4 years and 20 grand didn't go to complete waste ^_^. And as always my thanks to my Church for being himself and giving me feedback and more ideas. So enjoy!


Washington tried to think positively. He had all but single handedly brought down Project Freelancer. The nightmare that he and his friends had been forced to endure would never happen to anyone else. Maine had been wiped of all the AI fragments and, Wash had been informed, was recovering 'nicely'.

However, the sparse cell he currently occupied steadfastly reminded him that he had still wound up in prison. That fact kept managing to kill his barely optimistic mood.

Sighing, the disgraced soldier stood up from his thin cot and made his way over to the stainless steel sink. Splashing cold water on his face he felt a patch of stubble, and opened his eyes to check it.

The man that stared back at through the mirror startled him. He didn't recognize the old, tired, worn out soldier he saw. It couldn't have been him; he was too young to be so gray, so lined, so scarred.

It hadn't been that many years since he had been the top ODST soldier in his entire platoon. He had thrown himself into any fight, and with Maine backing him up, nothing could stop them. They were better than any SPARTAN freak and more than happy to prove it to the whole damn UNSC. He had been ecstatic when the orders came down that he and Maine had been hand selected for a top-secret project key in winning the war.

It didn't take long for Wash and Maine to become friends with the easy going York, cunning Wyoming, and the beautiful Tex. He couldn't lie to himself; he'd found the fiery woman incredibly attractive, but then any male with pulse would have thought that.

Then the Dakotas joined their circle and Wash fell for the spirited and spunky South the moment she walked through the doors. Their downtime became the stuff of Command legend with many, many close calls in the barracks and broom closets. North and Maine covered for them more often then they probably should have, but at the time Wash didn't care.

He knew now it would have never lasted between them, but back then he was convinced he'd die happy if she was the last woman he was ever with.

Unfortunately, she wasn't. The women of Project Freelancer openly despised each other. The guys often mused that throwing Tex, South, CT and Carolina in one room and locking the door would bring about the complete and utter destruction of the entire universe. They were always finding a way to undercut each other, hiding the maliciousness behind the competitive edge they were encouraged to maintain. CT was the worst of all of them and she hated Tex more then anything. She wouldn't risk the Director's wrath going after the red head, so she turned her sites on South.

Wash closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cold glass. He had been so stupid back then, so gullible. The pointless fight with South gave CT the perfect opportunity to strike at the brunette woman in such a way that would damage her far worse than any physical blow.

He had known CT's reputation, hell everyone did. He'd ribbed Maine hardcore when the story started circulating that the dyed blond beauty had gotten him and North in her bed…at the same time. Maine had refused to confirm or deny the story. That alone should have been reason for Wash to hesitate when she had offered to pour him a glass. And then another and another until over half the damn bottle was gone.

If he hadn't been so preoccupied with trying to get South to just listen to him, he probably would have killed Maine for being a royal asshole and making Wash's life that much worse.

Then the AI implantation annihilated the already fracturing circle of friends. The ties of family, friend, comrade and even his very mind were destroyed beyond all repair. Because of his AI, Wash couldn't even look at Tex in the end. She had been the only one of the women who had remained neutral when the others had turned against him.

Epsilon shared far more with the Freelancer then just the memories of the horrible things they had done to break the Alpha. He didn't realize just how merged their minds were until shortly after the initial implantation. Wash had been walking through the locker room when he heard a shower running. He didn't think anything of it until he saw Tex's locker open. Suddenly, he was assaulted by the phantom feeling of the red head's legs locked around his waist as he braced her back against the cold blue tiles of their old apartment's pathetic excuse of a shower.

If was the first time his friends found him on his knees, clutching his skull and screaming at Epsilon to get out of his head. It wouldn't be the last.

He could no longer separate his memories of South from Epsilon's memories of Tex and that made any reconciliation with the purple armoured woman impossible, even if she hadn't been ignoring his entire existence. The problems with his AI made the Director halt the next wave of implantations until a 'suitable solution could be found'. When the unraveling AI found its own solution in the form of mental suicide, the whole program was put on hold.

Still stinging from Wash's betrayal, North getting Theta instead of her, South began to openly blame the former ODST for everything in her life that had become derailed. She may have always been as manipulative and backstabbing as CT, but it wasn't until then she stopped trying to control those aspects of her personality.

Recovering from the forcible removal of Epsilon, Wash had spent the time contemplating his relationship all the while still trying to sort out what had actually happened to him and what wasn't just someone else's memory. He became angry at South for not listening, not even hearing his side. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

When he saw her again, the day he responded to North's recovery beacon, all the anger had disappeared and all he saw was the spirited woman he loved. It didn't last but a minute, the venom in her voice told him she still hated him, but even then he had tried to save her. All he got in return was betrayal and a bullet in the back.

He hadn't wanted to kill her. Part of him, despite everything, still loved her but he knew Delta was right and the next time she would make sure he didn't survive.

At least he kept his word and gave her the clean, quick death with the handgun. The night the circle of friends had graduated from the final program selection they had all promised that if they ever had to take another Freelancer out, they'd make sure it was with the handgun.

Still, Wash knew a part of his soul died when he pulled the trigger. He had killed before, he was a soldier, and it came with the job. Killing South, though, had felt like Epsilon's suicide and in that moment he wished he had died with the AI.

Wash looked at himself in the mirror again and saw how much of his life had been taken from him. He had lost his youth, his sanity, his career, his love, and ultimately his freedom for a program that had no impact on winning the war in the end.

He hated the Director for everything he had done, hated Epsilon for ruining his memories, CT for tearing he and South apart, South for betraying him, and finally, himself for everything he had done and failed to do. Rage filled him as thought of the lost years he could never get back and the long years of incarceration ahead of him.

Letting out a guttural roar of all his frustration, anger and grief, he let his fist fly into the mirror. The glass shattered and in the fragments he saw his whole life broken and wasted.

"What happened down there?" The guard's voice echoed through the cellblock.

"It's nothing." Wash heard himself say aloud as he pulled his fist away from the destroyed mirror. He meant the sum of his life, but the guard took it as an answer to his question. In the quiet that followed, Wash could hear the radio buzz.

"Hey Washington, you've got a call." The guard said approaching the former Freelancer's cell.

An idea of who would even be trying to get a hold of him by means of a call nagged at him and suddenly he had the feeling that maybe, just maybe he wasn't done yet. Mentally picking himself up, Wash walked away from the mirror. He was still angry, still bitter but with a renewed sense of duty. He wasn't defeated yet and now he found focus on finding a way to get back the only thing left he could reclaim: his freedom.