Summary: Matt asks a question he has wanted to know the answer to for years. While the rest of the Saints try to make Miller feel like part of the crew, Remy is incensed by the time it is taking for CID to locate the rest of her people.

A/N: Thanks Chy for the early read of this, as always appreciated.

Free to Be

03 Pro Memoria

-1-

Her arrival made the whole couch react vocally, the whine of the old springs cried against the force of the landing she made after jumping over the back. Matt bit back the smile that threatened to show his relief, as Remy rubbed an apple with a paper towel. With a playful glance up at him through her long eyelashes, she held the piece of fruit out to him.

"Repayment for the tea?" he asked lightly as he took it and set it aside.

She shrugged her shoulder and made a face. "You wouldn't want me to try and cook anything. Even boiling water I could probably take this ship down," she lied. Retrieving another apple from her pocket she set to work polishing it.

"Somehow I don't quite believe that."

She laughed. "You of all people should know not to lend credence to everything you read."

"Oh, I didn't read this."

The blue was steely, but the deep ring that rimmed her iris was striking, almost a midnight blue. He realized he was staring at her eyes when she arched her eyebrow at him.

"Umm… sorry what?" he stammered, turning his attention back to the console.

"What didn't you read?"

"Well, according to my sources, you love to cook. But pretend you can't. And you're really good at it."

"Who might this source be?" From the sound of the bite the apples were still fresh, and the beads of moisture on the pale flesh of the fruit made his stomach grumble. "I might have to smash their kneecaps. You can take a break, you know? CID said you've been down here working most of the day."

Matt looked at the apple and realized the AI was right. He had woken up with the intention of putting in an hour on the code, but lost track of everything. He grabbed the fruit he had set on the console when she had handed it to him, in reaction she scooted over a little in invitation. Or at least he wanted it to be an invitation to join her.

"That stuff distracts you." Her tone was not a question, nor was there a question in her look.

"Like running a job, doesn't distract you?" he retorted, taking a seat.

The laughter made his chest tighten, and he stared at the red rind as he spun the apple with his fingers.

"These are surprisingly good. I'm not a fan of red apples, but I like these. You should try it," Remy suggested as she took a generous bite of her own.

She was blatant in everything. She only sipped her tea when it was too hot to take a mouthful. She did not daintily nibble at the apple or slice off polite little bites with one of the knives she always had on her person. Everything about Remy McGinnis is all or nothing, always had been, mostly. He took a small bite as he considered the one time in his own experience with her when that had not been the case.

"Can I ask you something?" Matt finally said.

"Shoot," she insisted with another sharp crunch.

His eyes moved along the jagged edges of the bite he had taken, noticing the curve of his own teeth marks and the difference where the skin had just split as he tore away another mouthful. "Why didn't you kill me back in Steelport?"

"Matt, are you doing okay?" Her hand on his shoulder startled him. His eyes darted to hers.

"Yeah," he said with a shake of his head as he looked away. "I just never understood why. I mean … I'm grateful, don't get me wrong. I just-"

He took a deep breath and turned to face her, she was studying him carefully at this point, but he chose to ignore it. He considered how to approach what he wanted to say for a moment and opted to just dive right in.

"You have a certain reputation, at least before you came to Steelport. Someone butted heads with you, and things happened to them. Maero, the Ronin, Veteran Child and the Samedi, they all went after you and your people … and …"

"And they all wound up in the ground," she finished for him.

"But that didn't happen in Steelport. I understand the choice between your people and Killbane. Those are your friends. And I can even understand your association with Viola. She brought information and someone with inside connections. She was useful. But I tried to kill you … more than once … and I know you took the deal I offered, but we both know what a crap deal it was."

Remy laughed, a big grin lighting her eyes as she wrapped her apple core in the paper towel. "Yeah, that was a pretty shitty trade, Matt. You were scraping the barrel with that one."

She was smiling, and it remained when her eyes locked on his. The shiver that went up his spine was non-descript; he did not know if it was fear or something else that prompted it, but it made every nerve in his body tingle. Remy leaned toward him, never losing his gaze.

"Then why'd you take it?"

"You were sixteen, Matt." Her voice was calm and flat, almost gentle.

"Seventeen," he countered, only by a couple of months, but for some reason in that moment the difference of one year mattered to him.

She shook her head a moment, still grinning. "Okay, fine. Seventeen. Even so, it was more than just about your age. You were in a fucked up situation in the Syndicate. Yes, you were an active part of the group, but from what Viola told us about Killbane, I kind of gave you the benefit of the doubt that there was some coercion and maybe fear for your life mixed in with the whole cyber god bravado. You were a kid, a kid with a massive ego, and, for the most part, the bones to back it up. But there was more to it."

Remy ran her hands over her thighs and pushed herself off the couch. "Besides, I could see it in your eyes."

"What?" he asked almost immediately.

She looked up at the ceiling and it took a long time for her to finally answer. "The fear."

Matt slumped back in the sofa, his shoulders hunched and his eyes locked on the fruit in his hands. She was right. Being beaten on his own turf by someone he had not considered his equal had been a sobering experience. This woman should not have been able to get to him, even with Kinzie's help. He had never expected her to ever get through the use-net, let alone reach his inner sanctum. In one fell swoop she had crushed his ego, made him question his own skill, and then made him feel worthless, not even worthy of a bullet. Walking away from technology of all types had been his first thought when he went home, then MI-6 popped up and yanked him back into that world, giving him a new focus and drive. Making him a respectable member of society and kind of keeping him in check in many ways.

"You were in over your head, Matt. I've been there, more than once, which is why I could see it. The only difference between you and me at that point was that I've mostly had people there to back me up when I got into those places. You were kind of hung out there on your own and left to whip in the wind," she observed, turning and leaning on a crate. "And I've been there, too."

His eyes finally rose to hers, and he thought, hoped, he saw a tenderness there, but then he realized that more likely than not it was something completely different. Thinking he saw pity in her eyes, his temper started to bubble.

"So, you let me go because you felt sorry for me?" There was more acid in his voice than he intended, but the idea of her pitying him, then, now, ever, irritated and angered him in a way that seemed irrational even to him, though that did not change how he felt in that moment.

"No. I didn't feel sorry for you. I just remembered what it was like to be hung out to dry by people who were supposed to have your back. Only difference is that your boys left you alone with me. My guys tried to blow my ass up," she all but growled at him. Rubbing her hand across her forehead, Remy took a deep calming breath.

"Look. Somehow, I got a reprieve I had no right to expect. I got a second chance." She stared at him, her gaze still harsh, but not cold. "For some reason when I saw you there, looking up at me, I remembered that. I remembered being a stupid kid that bought into someone else's bullshit and nearly dying for it. So I broke habit. Instead of writing you off, I took your shitty deal and let you walk. Figured there was a chance you might find a better outlet for all that talent and those mad skills," she said playfully before her tone turned somber again. "You're too good to let a group of two-bit thugs use you as a tool for profit."

The surprise surely had to be written on his face, or so he thought as he stared at her. Remy broke their connection first, by looking down at her hands. Then she straightened and crossed the room. Matt was not sure how to deal with the revelation of why she had not killed him. He honestly had not been expecting her to be quite so honest and open about it. What he had expected was some snarky answer with a touch of the truth buried beneath a load of sarcasm and bravado. Miller was not sure precisely how to take the inference in her answer or the fact that Remy actually just told him the plain, unclothed truth.

When she bent and snatched up her neatly wrapped apple core, Matt grabbed her wrist. Instinctually the look she gave him was a harsh warning, a reminder she gave to anyone that put their hands on her, even her own friends. But then there was something else just behind the hardness, something that made his heart race and muddled his usually clear mind.

"Thank you," he finally said, not able to find any other sentiment he could voice.

"You're welcome, Matt. And for what it's worth, I think you've come pretty far since your little Nyte-Blayde-inspired cyber dungeon."

Her smile prompted his own. There was no reply in his head, he just merely let go of her wrist and watched her walk back out of the cargo bay. She stopped at the doorway for a moment before she glanced over her shoulder at him. "I should be able to finish up that data collection you need later this evening. Let me know when you're ready for me to hit those last few targets and I'll get you what you need."

Matt nodded. He did not know what else to do.

-2-

The boss broke her schedule after the conversation with the hacker. Remy could not be sure precisely why she opened up to him so freely, it was not her way. Maybe it was because he seemed to be showing his discomfort with the situation since Shaundi came on board. Maybe it was because she could see that he still felt like he was not part of the crew. The Saints had worked with Matt and Asha, after the success of the mission against Cyrus, but there was no denying that he was still on the outside, despite their past cooperation and association.

Right now, there was no outside, Remy knew. There couldn't be. They had to work together to get this done, no matter what flags they flew in the past they were all Saints now. Maybe she told him the truth in the hopes that it would make him feel included, but she could not really say why she had done it. Remy had chosen to retrieve him before her own crew because she needed the best to pull this off, and he was at least as good as Kinzie, maybe better, or at least better at some things while Kensington excelled at others. But Remy knew she would only see his best if he understood that he had a place.

That was one thing that was constant-no matter your role. Your performance always peaked when you felt that someone appreciated your value. If you felt like an outsider, there was no incentive to achieve the group's goals. But when you felt like an integral member, it was like you were achieving your own goals rather than someone else's. Right now she needed everyone on her crew in that mindset. She needed them all focused on the goal. She needed them all on the top of their game, even if she still had no idea whether the goal was viable.

After disposing of the refuse, Remy trotted up the stairs and strolled over to Kinzie who was tapping away at one of the consoles. "Got a to-do list for me, Sweetie?"

"But you just came out, Boss," Kinzie replied with a slight furrow in her brow.

"I know," Remy said as she straightened and crossed her arms over her chest. "Just feeling a little restless. Figured I'd run a little longer."

"I thought you were all set on that schedule Matt set up." Kensington did not care for Miller, still.

His intervention and assistance seemed to be unappreciated, though the boss had hoped her friend might see Miller and his contributions as a boon-two heads are better than one and all. Remy had suggested they pick up Matt to help Kinzie out, take some of the load off her. The boss hoped that her friend might be able to get over the rocky past the two computer wizards had, but part of her was quickly realizing that might be a pipe dream. While the former federal agent liked Matt's partner, Asha, well enough, there was still no love lost between Kinzie and him.

Remy leaned against the console beside the redhead's and looked down at the toe of her own boots. "Look, I know how you feel about all this. And I know your opinion about Miller."

"I don't trust him. Fate of the Earth be damned. He's always been an egocentric code weasel. And I have yet to see evidence to the contrary."

"Kinzie, I get it. I really do. He fucked up your reputation and derailed your career. That shit is kind of hard to overlook. But we might just have to put the past behind us, because push come to shove, you and Matt are probably some of the sharpest minds when it comes to tech and computers and all this code shit. And, like it or not, we need him. As good as you are, you have to rest some time. You cannot do this all on your own."

Kinzie huffed slightly in response and eyed her screen. She hated it when Remy got all logical and reasonable; and had told the boss as much from time to time when it happened.

"I'm not asking you to forgive him, or be his friend. But work with him. Put some of the load off onto his shoulders. Don't cut him out. He's part of this crew. So, please, for me. Figure it out."

The bright pained eyes met Remy's and she knew Kinzie would make it work. That's what they were all doing. None of them were in their natural elements, but they had to figure out a way to make things work in this screwed up realm if they were going to have any chance at getting anyone else back, getting rid of Zinyak, and hopefully, there was an off chance they could reverse things. Though that seemed like nothing more than a wishful thinking. But then most of her life Remy had been working toward pipe dreams.

-3-

Pierce was just glad to be out of that damned nutrient milk bullshit, though he felt like he could still smell the sweet sour milk stench despite the scrubbing. And the suit kept chafing him under the arms, which he blamed on poor craftsmanship. But for all the discomforts of the ship it was a lot better than being stuck in that digital hell with Paul. The memory of it still made him cringe.

"Hey, Matt! How ya been, man?" Pierce asked as he sank the solid purple ball in the side pocket.

The hacker stopped in the doorway and just shrugged. Pierce sighed. The Saints were all trying to be civil, because the boss asked them to, but the little Brit seemed to be withdrawing even more.

"Listen." Pierce dropped the cue on the table and crossed the room to a crate he had confiscated and claimed as his own. It was brimming with random things he found hidden in other crates that were on the ship or that had been picked up here and there. "I found something in one of the crates up front. Thought you might want to take a look."

Washington was actually surprised that the lanky taller man had responded and was standing a few feet from him, craning his neck as Pierce turned with the prize in his arms. Pierce smiled just a little as he carried the cardboard box over to the table where Miller joined him.

"I couldn't believe it when I found them. Figured I'd grab them up before the boss or Shaundi thought they were junk and tossed them."

With a strange sense of reverence, Pierce lifted the lid off the old file box and grinned crookedly. The plastic sleeves gleamed in the bright light of the room.

"Is that…?" Matt gasped, bright blue eyes wide in surprise.

"Oh yeah. Whoever these belonged to, he had them all. Nyte Blayde, Ganstas in Space, The Gat Files, even the shitty Franklin Nyte back-story ones they did after the TV series ended."

Matt gingerly picked up the first issue of Nyte Blayde. Pierce watched the kid's hand move over it lightly. "I can't believe it."

"Yeah," Pierce said with a little trace of self-satisfaction. "I saw them and knew they would come in handy."

"No, I meant that you're a Nyte Blayde fan."

"Aww, shit. That show was awesome. And Josh was a trip."

"Josh?"

"Yeah, he still has this ridiculous thing for Shaundi. Never figured that one out. Most guys'd go for the boss, at least until she threatens to shoot them in the leg, if you know what I mean."

Matt laughed, there was a tinge of nervousness in the sound that Pierce caught, it suggested Matt got the unspoken meaning in his comment. "Can I?" the hacker asked, gesturing to the comic book he had picked up.

"Hell yeah. I'm all for protecting them, but these things are meant to be read. I never understood that whole buy it and lock it up mentality. This shit is entertainment. And there is only a handful of diversions that can be had wrapped in plastic." Washington chuckled as he elbowed the translucently pale hacker.

Pierce glanced up from his own issue and noted the careful way Miller handled the book. It made him wonder if Matt might be one of those don't touch it collectors. With a shrug he turned his attention back into the issue he had not read yet. Before he could really even get into the childhood traumas of Franklin Nyte, CID floated into the room.

"Shaundi and Kinzie have requested relief," the AI stated dryly.

"Damn, she's still at it?" Pierce asked, slapping the comic down on the table without even trying to hide his irritation.

"Yes."

The alien intelligence was not one for elaboration in most cases. Pierce was fairly certain Remy had intimidated it out of him in the last few weeks. "How long has she been in there this time?"

"Fourteen-point-seven hours," CID revealed as the three of them exited the room.

"That long? What is she doing?" Matt asked, and Pierce was almost certain the kid sounded concerned.

"She is breaking the simulation. Seeking data that can be used to locate the others. It also seems she is gaining some sort of cathartic effect," the monotone electronic voice noted.

"Which is an elaborate way of saying she's in there beating motherfuckers to death," Pierce snorted. He had to wonder if Remy was still using the bat, or if she was once again down to using her bare hand. "Damn lucky for her cutting her knuckles open on one of those guys in there means dick out here."

"Be that as it may," Shaundi said as she stepped out of the machine. "The boss isn't fucking doing any of us any favors."

"Is she looking for something specific?" Matt queried as he slipped into a seat at the console.

Shaundi looked over at Kinzie for a moment, before they both looked at Pierce. "She is trying to get us more data points so we can locate … the rest of the crew," Kensington said with a quick glance at Matt.

"Where the fuck is Pierce?" The boss' voice held a note of irritation that he had not heard in a long time. "I could use a little bit of a hand, if he's done touching himself." The sound of an explosion punctuated the transmission.

"What the hell?" he asked. "Are ya'll really going to let her run through this crazy shit like this?"

"You want to try and talk her down," Shaundi challenged, gesturing to the interface. "Go right the fuck ahead. But you better hope you get to the door first, or you'll come to with her foot on your throat. You know how she is when she gets like this."

"Goddamnit. We need Ben or Oleg. Those were the only other motherfuckers that could talk her down besides Johnny." Pierce winced when Shaundi's eyes went to Kinzie for a second. "Fu-uck," he groaned and looked over at Kensington, too. "I'm sorry, girl."

"Just go help the boss before her first instinct devolves to shooting you on sight," Kinzie said.

-4-

Pierce looked haggard when he climbed out of the machine. He had offered to have Kinzie come up and relieve Matt, when the Saint realized how long they had been at it. Miller shook his head and instead opted to maintain his post. Her vitals were fluctuating wildly. In part he knew it was the exertion and the combat, but he also knew a large factor of it was the fact that she was nearing twenty hours straight in the simulation.

When she stopped and just leaned against a wall, Matt sat up and tapped the mic. "You doing all right in there?"

"No. I'm not," she snapped.

Matt gritted his teeth, he could hear the strain in her voice.

"Sorry. It's not your fault. Fuck, I hate this goddamn place," she yelled then fired four shots, all hitting their mark and dropping a digital construction.

"Just shooting civilians for the hell of it?"

"Why the hell not? It's not like any of this is real. The cops can't add this bullshit to my body count." Three more shots sounded and he heard the distinct sound of her reloading her pistol. "Crap I could pull a bats-in-the-belfry move if I wanted. Just hang out on some damn tower with my rifle and burn ammo."

"If I recall, you did that in Steelport once," Matt replied lightly.

She stopped again and looked up at the darkness he knew surrounded her. "No, no, no. That is not what happened. Fucking Morningstar killer hos interrupt a party and start sniping my people. That was self-preservation, not sociopathic spree-killer with rifle and a scope."

Matt chuckled. She was right, but he was simply trying to get her mind off her irritation. "How many was it again? Five?" He already knew the answer, but he also know she would correct him.

"More like fifteen. And of course since I already had the rifle out…" Her tone was much lighter than it had been since he arrived earlier.

"How many did you end up taking out with that thing?"

"No more than two dozen. Once I cleaned up the deck and the landing pad it was a little much, and it's not really the type of weapon you go bashing people's face in unless you absolutely have to."

"From what I hear, you pretty much do that with everything."

Remy laughed and holstered her pistol, or so the code told him. He slid over a console and watched the graphic feed.

"So you are telling me that in Prague, when that guy jumped you and you bashed his skull in with your laptop, you felt absolutely nothing," the boss challenged. She was standing in the middle of an intersection ignoring the vehicles moving past her, arms crossed over her chest as her eyes scanned the perpetual night sky of the simulation. "Because I'm going to call bullshit, if you say yes."

"Why's that?" Matt replied, conscious of the blush warming his cheeks even if she was not.

"Because I saw you hit that guy. Then you stood there and looked around all sheepishly for a minute. Then, I swear, the look on your face was like a cat when it kills a mouse-all triumphant, look-what-I-did, bright-eyed pride. You'd have thought it was your first kill," Remy chuckled.

Matt's fingers traced along the edge of the monitor. "It was," he admitted quietly.

"Shit." Her tone was a little more grave. "I didn't realize."

"I mean it was bound to happen sometime. It was the whole reason Asha kept pushing me to get more comfortable with guns."

"You've gotten pretty good. Leaps and bounds over the last time we were at the range," Remy noted.

Matt could not help the smile that curved his lips at the thought that she remembered those horrible sessions from years earlier. He did, of course, but he had no reason to think that those lessons might have been a memorable for her. "Yeah, well, I'm better in the simulation than I am outside of it. The code can hide a multitude of sins so to speak."

"Really now?" she said playfully. He watched her jog across the street and start walking north. "Asha said your scores were steadily coming up. Of course, she also told me you were still holding the damn gun like it might bite you."

The scar between his thumb and his forefinger suggested it was a very real consideration. "Well, if you recall…"

"Yeah, you're right. You were pretty prone to slide bite. Did you ever fix that grip?" she asked.

The President of the United States should not remember these sorts of things, he thought for a moment before he answered. "Mostly."

"You haven't gotten bitten in the sim yet."

"Oh, yeah I have," Miller admitted with a light laugh. "Just it's a lot more forgiving in there than the real world."

"Tell me about it."

The silence dragged on for a minute, maybe two, before he decided to broach the subject that everyone wanted to bring up, but no one would after the first time the boss shut them down. "You know your timer's at almost twenty-one hours, right?"

"Yeah, I know." She sounded almost sad, or maybe it was just tired, or maybe it was just her moving back to irritated, Matt couldn't really be sure.

"Your vitals have been a little shaky for the last few."

"I just…" Remy stopped again and when she looked up he almost felt like she was looking at him, which she kind of was in a way. "I have to do this. I need to find them. It took four days to find Shaundi, and though we had hints of Pierce it still took CID more than eight days to find him. We're at five again. This is taking too long."

"Yes, but you've been killing yourself in there since we picked Pierce up and, sure, CID has more data to process, but it still takes just as long to weed through."

"Fuck!" The wall she punched cracked and fissured from the point of the impact. "This is not how I work!"

"I get it."

"Do you?" she challenged, glaring upward as she walked into the street, turning circles as if seeking a point to focus on. "I'm the one people go to when they need a problem handled. I've always been the fixer-whether you needed a plan or just someone to break some knee caps, or make the long shot no one else would touch." Remy picked up a car and launched it up the street, the resulting metallic crashes and crunching were offset by the screams, which she quickly silenced by emptying her clip.

"Now look at me."

Matt did exactly that. The body locked into the dock looked so much more at peace than the one currently rampaging up a busy thoroughfare-smashing cars, shooting people, breaking necks when she ran out of ammo.

"I know. Look at you. The one person with the guts to walk out of their simulation, despite the threats. The one willing to walk into someone else's to pull them out of their own fucking digital nightmare. The one practically killing herself in the hope that we can find just one more person. Look at you!" he yelled before getting quiet again. "Look at you."

Remy stopped and turned, staring upwards again.

"I don't think any of the rest of us could do it. I know I couldn't. Kinzie can't. If she could, or Keith could they would have come in after you, any of us would have if we could."

"All I can do is this. And I have to do it so that you, Kinzie, and CID have the tools you need to find them. As many of them as we can, before we lose anymore," Remy said much more calmly.

She tugged the ponytail out of her hair and rubbed her fingers through it a few times before she sat down on the double yellow line in the center of the road. "I'm useless in the real world right now, except for the short time after we break someone out. This is the only place I can help. The only place I can contribute something."

"That's not really true," Matt countered.

The upwards glance suggested she did not believe him.

"If you are in the simulation for more than six hours, we need to switch out who is in there with you and ideally even who is monitoring you. None of the rest of us have the stamina for the simulation you have. It's wearing Shaundi and Pierce out, trying to keep up with you. Kinzie is reluctant to leave her console when you are inside." He grinned for a moment and added, "I still don't think she trusts me with your life yet."

"Well, she does have cause."

"Hey, now! I've apologized for that. Hell, I'm actually kind of glad I fucked it up, to be honest."

Remy leaned back on her hands, stretching her legs out in front of her on the asphalt. "Hell, so am I."

"Yeah well. Besides wearing out your crew. You're not helping yourself either."

"Not the point, Miller," Remy corrected.

"Actually it kind of is the point. Because since we've already established that you're the only one who can break other people out, for whatever reason. Then, if you kill yourself in this damn simulation, we're all done for." Matt had avoided playing this card for a while. He knew Remy was already carrying enough guilt and grief to put a dozen people into catatonic states, and he really did not want to add to it. "It's like I told you before. Taking care of yourself is taking care of your crew. And the pace you're running right now will kill you if you try to keep it up."

Neither of them said anything for quite a while. Then he watched as she leaned back and laced her hands behind her head. "How about we go back to talking about what a piss poor shot you are?"

"Were?" he corrected.

"Whatever."

Matt laughed. "If that's what you really want to do, sure. But, personally, I just found out that Pierce has a stash of comic books, and there are at least fifty of those I'd rather be reading as opposed to sitting here and watching you lay in the middle of the street just because you can."

"All right fine. Be that way," she chided as she stood up and stretched.

Biting his lip, he watched her sprint off toward the Stanfield door then slid back to the other console. What he had told her was not entirely true. He would much rather have sat there talking to her, but even that innocent action took more out of her in the simulation than it would sitting on the sofa in the cargo bay, or over a game of pool in the common area of the ship. Though for some reason it was a lot easier to talk to her sometimes like this. He did not know why she did not give him grief over these types of conversations, maybe because she saw it coming from an outsider-someone that did not have a vested interest in her survival.

If she only knew, he thought as she reached the door.