Salvation
Chapter Four
By Nan00k

Oops! Got a bit off track there, but luckily a RvB night with friends has helped get this moving again! :)

We meet an old (canon!) friend and then Livingston and Iowa talk.

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Warnings: original characters, violence, foul language, mentions of torture, potentially alternate-universe story line
Disclaimer: I do not own Halo (© Bungie) nor do I own Red vs. Blue (© Rooster Teeth Productions). The original characters in this I made up for the purpose of this story.

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The day she met Alpha was the day the universe truly threw a wrench into Ada Livingston's plans and overall comprehension of the project at hand.

"Hello, Alpha," she began calmly to the glowing white figure on the desk. The monitors above them buzzed as increased security bore down upon them. "My name is Doctor Livingston and I—"

"Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up," the AI suddenly blurted. He waved his hands at her, distracting her. "What did you just call me?"

Livingston arched an eyebrow, pondering where this would lead. "…Alpha?" she offered.

The AI drew back, inflated, and then erupted into the most human rage Livingston had seen yet in one of her patients.

"For the last, GODDAMN time, you fucking idiot Freelancer MORONS," he began, his voice rising higher and higher in volume, "my name is CHURCH. LEONARD CHURCH. HELLO. DID YOU NOT GET THE MEMO?"

Livingston stared.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you idiots don't even talk to each other! Either that or you're deliberately fucking with me," the Alpha snarled. He threw his hands up into the air, exasperated. "Where the hell is Wash? ! I'm going to fucking kill him for stranding me here!"

"…I see…" Livingston said at last, ears ringing. She was intrigued, however. None of the others had ever reacted so strongly. "Forgive me. You do know, ah, who Freelancer is and your, ah, purpose is, then?"

If he was not projecting a helmet at the time, Livingston was certain the Alpha would have been glaring daggers her way. "You're all deranged. I swear to fucking God, everyone in this army is insane," he spat. "Yeah, I know who Freelancer is. They're the fucking morons who stuck me in this freaking box. How the hell did they do that? ! I'm a ghost! A fucking ghost!"

Well, this was certainly not in any of her notes. There wasn't much documentation on the Alpha, however, as he had been quietly stolen away to various hideouts over the years. "…A ghost, you say?" she asked, hesitant.

"Yeah, lady, a ghost," Alpha—rather, Church—snapped. He had the nerve to cross his arms and she had a feeling he was glaring up at her. "Wait a second, who the hell are you? Where is this?"

Livingston considered how to approach this. "This is the USS Falcon, a science and exploratory vessel," she said slowly. "You're under UNSC management for now, so don't worry about Freelancer interfering. You're safe here."

"Safe? What the hell are you talking about?" Church demanded. His aggression was surprising and deserved further inspection later.

"My name is Doctor Ada Livingston. I am a psychologist," she explained, again calm. She nodded with her head toward the door, indicating the other members of the team as well. "The Meta has been killed and the AIs and yourself have been brought here to be psychologically evaluated and to decide whether you will be able to be rendered whole again, or deactivated out of mercy."

Oh, the look the AI projected even without the face. She could practically feel the incredulous malice emanating from his form.

"…You have got to be fucking kidding me," Church said after an intense pause, sarcasm and rage dripping from each word.

It took more than Livingston's allotted two-hour session to give Church the full run-down of what was going on. He did not like one bit of it, but at least he was (somewhat) rational. He was probably the sanest, most-whole unit Livingston had talked to since beginning this project.

And that did not make any sense. At all.

This was the Alpha—who had been disillusioned by his own safety net, apparently, into believing he was the real Leonard Church. The Alpha was the broken one. His fragmented mind made up the other AIs. There shouldn't have been anything left to make into a whole, sane person.

But Leonard Church did appear to be… whole. Ada was thoroughly confused. No one else could figure it out either. He behaved as though he were a "Smart" AI, not the victim of a reverse multiple personality disorder.

Over time, she began to theorize that somewhere along the lines, during the breakdown process, Alpha began to revert all behaviors to the one entity he still knew, even as his own persona was destroyed around him:

The Director.

Livingston had never met the Director personally, but she doubted he was as angry or verbally outspoken as the Alpha was. Where he ended and "Church" began wasn't clear. The Alpha was… strange. His behavior seemed to have no solid basis, however. It was like he assumed to respond to situations in a mechanical way. He knew to be happy when pleased and knew to be angry when faced with confrontation. That was the only logical explanation for Livingston, but she wasn't certain of anything yet.

For the moment, she decided to worry about connecting Alpha with the others. Church was very fond of ridiculing the army as well as Freelancer, but he was constantly talking about one of the training bases he had been at during his time undercover. He mentioned many names Livingston didn't have references for, so she made a note to bring up their information later. Perhaps it would shed light in on O'Malley's situation as well. She had yet to decipher who "Doc" was or what he meant to O'Malley.

"Would you like to talk to your other halves?" Ada prompted over and over, trying to get him to agree. It was important that they meet and soon. The other AIs were all behaving exceptionally, actually responding to treatment now.

"Are you nuts?" Church exclaimed angrily. She had initially thought his yelling meant he disliked her, but after observing him for several weeks, it didn't appear to be personal. He just yelled. A lot. "They're not my other halves. And fuck that, O'Malley and Gary are going to be there."

Livingston hesitated over the nicknames. It was key to remember Church used them, apparently. "Gary…?" she repeated, adding that to her notes.

"Gamma, or whatever the heck Wyoming's AI was called," Church explained, annoyed about her asking.

"I see." She would definitely have to run that by Gamma later. How strange that it was the sociopathic ones that had nicknames. She wondered if Sigma had one at some point. "You don't like them?" she asked instead, guiding the conversation.

Church stared at her, posturing not hiding the fact he must have thought her mentally impaired. "They tried to kill me and my friends like five times," he replied hotly. "In multiple universes. And in the past and future."

Livingston just looked down at the glowing figure, part of her mind having tripped somewhere along the lines and was trying to catch up. "…What?" she asked, rather unintelligently. That was most DEFINITELY not in her files.

"Don't ask. Really." Church groaned and moved around in a circle, remarkably humanized in physical behavior patterns. He looked up at her, suddenly desperate. "Fuck. You're not going to let me out of the box are you?"

Frowning, the doctor shook her head. "Not until the Committee is pleased by your progress, Church. As much as you believe you are a ghost, we have reason to believe you are not," she said, sympathetic, but firm. "It's for your own good, Alpha. Please. Let us help."

"You're all insane," Church muttered darkly, head in his hands. "Completely insane."

The day all ten of them met would be… interesting.

0000

She needed a drink. Livingston didn't normally try to get drunk or even go near the on-ship bar that was open for any crewman off-duty. She had to question why they even had one on board, but even the doctor had to admit in a warzone, soldiers needed to unwind somehow. It wasn't a warzone lately, and they were a scientific vessel foremost, but after everything she had been through in the last few months… yeah, she wanted a drink.

Church was very adamant in his non-AI status. He clung stubbornly to the illusion he was a ghost. Livingston wondered why that made more sense to him that being an artificial intelligence unit, but to each his own, she mused. They were making progress, however, and Livingston blamed it all on the fact that the AI reacted to her in a way she would expect a human patient to. That aided her tremendously in how she could talk to him. He responded to coaching as any other person would, thank goodness.

However, his reaction, no matter how much it made it easier for her to communicate with him, caused more problems for her over-taxed mind than ever before. Why? Why did he react that way? Livingston sighed as she walked through the nearly-empty corridors of the ship as she made her way down to the recreation deck.

The Alpha was supposed to be a fragmented, unholy mess. Livingston didn't quite understand the science behind his fragmentation, but from what she thought she understood, she had expected him to be devoid of personality. That made sense, considering his other halves were only a floor away. He shouldn't have had a personality. He shouldn't have been so… so… human.

It was troublesome and mind-boggling. Church was so wrapped up with being "Church," he couldn't offer any suggestions either. They had been working together for two weeks now, and the other AIs had little to offer Livingston either. The AIs had not been together yet, but most likely they would be reunited with the Alpha within the following month. The Chairman was very positive about the turn of events, having not thought about bringing the Alpha into the picture. To be honest, the AIs had been very responsive as of late, Livingston had to admit. Perhaps there was hope to be had. They would all have to wait and see.

The recreation center housed the "bar," which was really only a small corner of the main hall that served as their movie theatre and general activity lounge. It was almost midnight, but there was no one around. Livingston sighed, relieved at the moderately quiet environment. She was exhausted.

The bar itself was mostly empty, save for another man sitting at the counter. Walking up, Livingston made her order—she needed something strong—and leaned on the counter to wait. She wasn't expecting to pay extra attention to the man beside her, but as it turned out, that wasn't the case.

He had short brown hair, graying at the sides, and had two long scars going from his left cheek down his neck, all the way past his shirt line. He had basic army fatigues on and didn't seem that out of place.

But when she sat down on one of the stools, he all but clapped his hand around her shoulder. "Hey, Liv!" he exclaimed, excited. "I didn't think you came down here."

Livingston stared back, freezing. She tried to remember the many faces of people she encountered on a daily basis, but she did not recognize the man. "Um, I'm sorry?" she asked, brow furrowing. She couldn't place the face, but the voice sounded…

"Ha! Betcha don't recognize me," the man teased. He sat back, smiling arrogantly. "It's me, Iowa."

Holy crap. Livingston gawked at him, astonished. "Oh, wow," she exclaimed, knowing her eyes must have been huge. Iowa just laughed. "I—I didn't even think it could be you!"

"Hey, even us Freelancers need a drink once in a while," Iowa replied, chuckling. He paused and then looked a little pained before taking a sip of his beer. "Of course, for us, 'once in a while' translates to 'every other day.'"

Livingston chuckled awkwardly. "Right…"

The amused glint in his eyes never faltered. "Freelancers get nights off too, you know, especially on civilian ships," he said. He motioned at the bar, grinning again. "Come on, have a drink with me."

It was probably a stupid thing to say 'yes' to, but as Livingston stared at the man, she realized that despite being social with her various coworkers, she had never really ever sat down to drink with one. Iowa was more part of the furniture than perhaps Okafor was, but…

"All right," she agreed, sitting down properly. She smiled, but quickly looked away. Iowa was far more of a gentleman than she had first given him credit for being, but… it was difficult to discount his origins. Maybe it was prejudice of her to think that of all Freelancer agents, but they did not inspire trust in her.

"How're things going in the lab?" he began conversationally, as if they had normal work lives. Livingston smiled, looking away.

"Not too good, but not terrible. Better than they were," she said. She was handed her beer by the bartender finally and she thanked him. She glanced at Iowa. "The majority of the AIs seem very excited and responsive to treatment, but the Alpha…" She trailed off, grim.

"Not cooperating?" Iowa guessed, glancing back at her.

Pursing her lips, Livingston looked at the bar counter. "No. He's adamant that we are mistaken and he's not an AI." With a heavy sigh, she sat back. It was so frustrating, even to think about. "I have no idea what to do, except try to prove otherwise."

"Well, are you gonna show him to the others?" the Freelancer asked.

It had taken some begging again, but the Chairman seemed to agree the AI needed to meet eventually. "Soon. Probably next week, if I'm lucky," she replied, looking at him with tired eyes. "We'll really get an idea of what to do next after that."

Iowa was quiet for a minute, looking thoughtful. "So, you think the Alpha's gonna change things for the others?" he asked, taking a sip. He sounded politely interested, as if they were just coworkers sharing simple stories of their jobs. Nothing about this was simple, however.

"I hope so…" she murmured. She took a long, draining gulp of her glass. Looking up, Livingston saw her reflection in the overhanging mirror. She looked horrible.

Tilting his head, Iowa smiled. "You know, I thought that it was all over once Xi killed himself, you know?" he said, shaking his head. "Amazing what science can do."

Livingston stared outward at nothing. She knew he didn't mean anything by it, but his words pierced her heart.

Everyone involved in this mess had regrets.

"Yes," she said carefully, averting her gaze. "It certainty can help us clean up the messes we make."

Iowa never struck her as being very smart, but sometimes, he was very perceptive. He shot her a quick look, frowning seriously. "What happened to Xi wasn't your fault, Liv," he said firmly. "Wasn't anyone's but the kooks who set him up for going nuts."

Livingston frowned, deciding not to reply to that. Iowa scoffed. "Reminds me of Epsilon and Washington. Man, that was fucked up." Almost instantly, Iowa flinched and added, "Er, pardon my French."

Foul language aside, Ada was immediately drawn in by his offhanded mention of the other Freelancer. "You knew Agent Washington?" she asked, stunned. She had never met a witness yet who had actually talked to the now infamous Freelancer agent. His death, she was sure, had been a terrible loss for her studies.

Iowa snorted, looking down in his drink. "Yeah. Kinda hard to forget him and his AI. They caused a royal shitstorm, let me tell you," he said, shaking his head grimly. "I never wanted an AI, but after seeing Wash go insane and nearly die, I was more than glad they cut the program."

"You… witnessed Epsilon's malfunction?" she asked, surprised. She had read all about that little tragedy. The AI had apparently unraveled within the mind of Agent Washington. It had, ah, not been pleasant, according to the notes, and had been one of the last nails in the coffin for the rest of the implantation experiments.

There was a dark shadow that passed over Iowa's face. It was his turn to stare out into the distance, caught up with negative memories. "Yeah… Wash was all but foaming at the mouth when they finally got his suit off," he said. He looked down at his drink. "I ain't that religious, Liv, but lemme tell you… there are some things that humans just shouldn't screw around with."

A bitter laugh escaped Livingston's mouth. "I agree." If the rehabilitation failed, and the military ever attempted another A.I. experiment, she knew for a fact that the guidelines around it would be impossibly strict. Good.

"And then there was Texas and Omega," Iowa continued. He gripped his face, agonized. "Holy crap, I probably would have been dead by now if I had been there, you know? I was stationed off base the day that Omega took over and slaughter everyone. Absolutely nuts."

Leaning on her hand, Livingston watched Iowa. "That was before Epsilon, correct?" she asked, trying to keep her memory straight. The three main Freelancer problems had been Omega and Texas' betrayal, Epsilon's meltdown, and well, the Meta.

"Yup, just a few weeks," Iowa confirmed. He grinned, but there was a dark look to his eyes again. "I don't think any of us are sane after what Freelancer's done to us and others, but… even I have to admit I'm pretty darn lucky I got out as I did." Placing an empty can down on the table, Iowa sighed gustily. "I'm done with Freelancer. Kaput. I'm sick of the Director's bullshit. He'd sooner sacrifice the whole batch of us to keep the overall project going. Never sees the fact that if we're all dead, there isn't a project."

Livingston stared at him, shocked. Iowa wore the Freelancer emblem still and probably would obey an order given by them, but for the first time, the psychologist had faith that he would obey the UNSC first.

For the first time, she realized that there were more victims of Project Freelancer than just the AIs. It was… humbling.

"So many lives wasted…" she said quietly, surprising him. She looked at him, honestly sympathetic. "I am sorry for what you have been forced to go through, Agent Iowa."

Iowa stared at her for a moment in surprise before recovering. "Thanks," he said, with a good-natured grin.

Livingston smiled back. "You're not working for them, are you? Not now?"

The man tsk'ed. "I'm under UNSC's directive, but yeah, you could still call me a Freelancer. Believe me, though, once all those court proceedings go through, and the Director gets his ass put in jail… I'm out. For good." He seemed to smile at himself, eyes downcast. "I'll find a nice little colony and get myself a day job and just… try to forget about this horrible war."

To have half the strength of this person… Livingston averted her gaze, suddenly exhausted.

"I wish you luck, then," she said quietly.

"Ha. Thanks," Iowa laughed. He stretched. "Getting kind of late."

Livingston glanced at her watch. "Yes… I should get going." More sessions meant more progress. She liked to start her day early anyway.

"Lemme walk you back," Iowa began, starting to stand up. Livingston stood quickly, motioning him back.

"No, it's quite alright," she said, at first polite, but then she smiled warmly. "Thank you… Iowa. For your kind words." She didn't expect to find such support from a Freelancer. Perhaps she was being too narrow minded.

Iowa's eyes twinkled. "Don't mention it," he said, chuckling. He nodded at her. "Night, Liv."

Ada nodded back. "Goodnight, Iowa."

She left, feeling far more content than she had in a while. They would handle the AIs. They could… solve this. She just needed confidence. To find it within anyone on the ship… was unexpected, but welcome.

More than anything, it was nice to know she had a friend.

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End Chapter Four.

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Next, the AIs are reunited, Delta has some issues, and then Livingston notices something odd about York.