(If you want to skip this AN, go ahead. It's gonna be a long one.)
A/N: Hey, all. I know that this is extremely, extremely late, but I've been in and out of the hospital constantly for that whole time, and haven't so much as looked at a computer in that time. I've been visiting a really close friend, but it's not looking too good for her, which is why I never left her side. Hopefully she'll pull through, but the doctors are saying that it doesn't look too good.
Anyway, onto happier news. A lot of people have added this fic to their favourites/alerts lists, and that really made me happy. Thanks you guys! You made my day :)
And, I'm also gonna reply to the anonymous reviewer before we start (you can skip this if it isn't you):
Guest: Wow, thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying this fic, it means a lot to me :) I hope you'll enjoy the next couple of chapters as well.
Onwards.
Carolina's whole body ached. Days of riding in the hard, small passenger seat of the Mongoose coupled with tense nights spent in full armour had done her no favours, and so she had zero patience left as she attempted to guide South onto the small, overgrown track. It branched off the main trail as a tiny little gap in the trees, and it stretched for almost twenty metres before becoming recognizable as the road they had to follow. As a result, it was nearly invisible – and missing it could mean adding hours to their already long journey.
"No, you're driving too far to the left," Carolina snapped, raising her voice over the roar of the engine as she nudged South's shoulder with her fist. "You'll miss the turn-off!"
Her shoulders tensed fractionally underneath Carolina's hand, and she seemed to deliberate for a moment before hunching further over the handlebars. Suddenly, South jerked them savagely to the right, the Mongoose rising on just two wheels for half a moment before slamming forcefully back down. Carolina bit off a yelp of painful surprise as the Mongoose lurched and kicked up and down as South drove mercilessly over large (though previously hidden to her by the long grass) and jagged rocks. The roar of the engine rose as South urged the Mongoose to greater speed, and was soon accompanied by a thin whine of complaint as it reached its very limits.
"Stop it!" Carolina beat at South's shoulder again and was nearly unseated as they leapt over the rocks. "Go back!"
South shoved the bike back to the left, and cut the engine. She looked at Carolina over her shoulder steadily, her grey eyes wide, and asked, "What, you don't think we'll miss the turn-off after all?"
Her innocent façade would have been flawless if not for the sarcasm dripping off her tone, and the simmering anger not-quite-hidden beneath her words. Carolina's eyebrows lowered as she glowered at her companion. She sniffed disdainfully, unwilling to dignify South's sarcasm with a proper answer. After a moment of silence, South turned forward once more and twisted her wrist, sending the Mongoose leaping onwards.
Inside the machine, Church snickered quietly and marveled at the fact that the Freelancers (supposedly strong, capable and superior professional soldiers) could descend into petty, bickering bitches after just a few days of sleeping rough and spending the hours of travel with entirely the wrong kind of company. Their attitudes now were ones he found oddly familiar.
And, strangely, he found that comforting.
Wash sighed inwardly, ignoring the voices of those around him as he cast his gaze slowly over Valhalla. It seemed… empty. Not of people – because he was fairly certain that the two teams plus Doc and Donut were plenty – but empty of purpose. Empty of direction. Empty of the life that had previously filled the canyon and its inhabitants and driven them forward.
Now it just seemed… deflated. The life previously occupying the canyon had gone, disappeared into the wind, and they had been left spinning in its wake and wondering what the hell to do next.
Perhaps he would have wondered where it had gone, if it hadn't already been so obvious. He knew exactly why and where it had gone – after all, he had watched it drive away on a Mongoose.
She had never looked back, and he hated the way he had expected her to.
But most of all, he hated the way he had felt disappointed when she did not.
Wash closed his eyes briefly, and cursed silently inside his mind. For a moment, he entertained a vision of himself racing after them... but then reason and logic reasserted itself and he re-opened his eyes, tuning in to catch the last of Simmons plea.
"Do we have to?" he whined, standing a little closer to their base than his teammates. Wash eyed him, and a small smile played at his lips.
"That depends," he answered. "How badly do you want your flag back?"
The Red looked down at his feet, shuffling them in the grass, and Wash could almost hear his heavy sigh. He glanced backwards, seeming hopeful.
"Hey, don't look at me," Grif said warningly. "It's your turn."
Simmons groaned, and Wash watched him impassively. "I would just like to let everyone know that I suck, and that I'm a girl-"
Tucker leaned in behind him, and spoke quietly. "You know, it was funny the first few times… but this is starting to get depressing."
His sides expanded in a long, heavy sigh. Even through his Freelancer armour, Wash could feel the wind plucking at his side. It's fine for you, he thought bitterly, picturing the breeze as it floated away, out of the canyon. You're going somewhere. Doing something. Wash kept his gaze lowered on the Reds as he replied, though there was no need. They weren't going anywhere. No one was, really. "Yeah."
"-and I like ribbons in my hair, and I want to kiss all the boys." Simmons finished, finally, and rose out his dejected slump. The Reds eyed their enemies curiously, hopeful, and another half-smile twitched at Wash's lips – though he hardly felt amused.
"Hey, what else have you got?" he asked. It wasn't likely that they had anything, as the Blues had taken everything of value from their base and the loot was now piled behind them triumphantly.
"Nothing!" squealed Grif indignantly. "That stupid flag was the only thing we had left!"
But Simmons turned back to them slowly. "Actually, there's still one thing you still haven't taken…"
Their interest piqued, the Blues followed the Reds back across the canyon.
South followed Carolina as she ghosted across the open grass, heading for the run-down facility some fifty metres ahead of them. Her right wrist felt stiff and uncomfortable, no doubt a result of keeping it at an odd angle for hours on end to keep the Mongoose at full speed. The ex-Freelancer lifted her hand from her gun and shook it absently, trying to work out the stiffness in the joint. But the result yielded no result, and so she ground her teeth and moved forward.
The trip had been mostly silent between the two ex-Freelancers. Carolina had talked to Epsilon occasionally, and South had traded insults with the arrogant A.I., but conversation between themselves had been stunted. That was fine, so far as South was concerned. She had nothing to say to the former number-one. And Carolina had nothing of value to say to her, either.
Still, South ran her gaze over the ex-Freelancer and wondered why. So far, Carolina had done virtually nothing about South supposedly having killed her brother. She hadn't – abandonment in the name of self-preservation was not the same, would never be the same, she hadn't done it, hadn't meant it like that – but Carolina didn't seem too concerned with it either way. The fact aggravated South, and made her feel disgusted by her companion. Carolina was so full of herself, all the time; as though she were superior, as though she was better – as though she wasn't guilty of the same crimes.
South clenched her fingers tighter around the barrel of her DMR, feeling her armour flex as it added extra power to the simple action. But the weapon remained unchanged.
Carolina paused ahead of her, and Epsilon flashed to life beside her. As always when she saw that particular A.I., South felt the bitterness spike through her before it settled into the old, familiar anger. She glared at Epsilon as she drew level with Carolina, arriving in time to hear them talk.
"How many?" Carolina asked, gazing around the space around them as though she expected to be attacked any second.
When Epsilon replied, his words were surprising. "None," he answered.
South raised an eyebrow in shock. "Really. You're sure?" Carolina asked, glancing back at the A.I.
"He's probably just malfunctioning," South muttered snidely. "Epsilon never worked right."
The A.I. turned to look at her. "I'm sorry, did I do something to piss you off recently?" he snapped, taking a step towards her.
South mirrored the action. "You really have to ask?" Her voice was drenched in sarcastic shock.
"Cut it out, guys." Carolina turned her calm, level gaze onto the ex-Freelancer. "Cool it, South. You too, Epsilon."
"It's Church," the A.I. muttered, before subsiding.
Cool it, South. Had Carolina purposefully used her brother's words? South didn't know, but the three words were enough to stun her into silence. Epsilon spoke again after a moment.
"Yeah, I'm positive. We're alone."
No, we're aren't. The trio wouldn't be alone – it just wasn't possible.
South had learned her lessons a long time ago, and now her instincts screamed defiantly against the simple sentence. They weren't alone. Life just wasn't that kind.
"Is that what I think it is?" Washington was half-frozen in disbelief. "Is that, whose I think it is?"
"Stolen alien weaponry used by the scariest fucking mute in the galaxy? Yeah. Pretty much," replied Simmons. Wash raised his eyebrows to stare at the simulation soldier.
"It's like, half knife, half rifle," Sarge observed gruffly. "What would you call that?"
Knifle. That had been its pet nickname, given to it by the other Freelancers when Maine had returned with the alien weapon. Maine had growled in approval, lifting the Knifle to stare at it, seeming hypnotized. Even Tex had been impressed by the brutal weapon.
Wash blinked, and was thrown back into reality when he realized he had missed half of the conversation. "You've been hiding one of the most advanced pieces of technology known to man, so you can hang it, in your living room?"
"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds dumb," Grif retorted. Wash rolled his eyes.
"That's because it is dumb!" he insisted.
He tuned out of the conversation again, for just a moment, as he stared back at the shining gun laid out on the ground. His ribs seemed to contract over his heart, until it beat painfully over his heart.
God, but he missed Maine. Back before, when he hadn't been the Meta, and they had been friends. Just Maine.
"I don't know; I just thought it was cool," Doc was saying. All the other soldiers had turned to face him, high on the base ramp, and so Wash did the same, a little confused for a moment as he realized the conversation had taken a different turn. "I mean, come on, you guys have been through a lot together. Don't you want something to remember all the good times?"
"The good times?" Tucker snorted. "I was stranded in the desert!"
"We were almost killed!" Simmons squeaked in protest.
"I learned my entire military career was a lie!" Sarge huffed, looking angry. Wisely, Wash remained silent as the CO of Red Team glanced at him.
"And I got shot!" Donut added.
Wash coughed awkwardly, and then Doc continued. "Okay, yeah; it wasn't perfect. But look what you all got out of it!"
"You mean the rifle-knife?" Sarge glanced down at the gun in the grass, nudging it with his armoured boot as he harrumphed.
Knifle, Wash corrected him automatically. But then Grif interrupted before he could; "You mean the Grif Shot?"
Doc continued. "Sure, there's that, but Sarge; you finally got to lead an actual military operation! And Tucker, you learned how to use your sword like a pro."
"Bow chicka bow wow?" Tucker trailed off uncertainly, and Wash smiled.
"You found a new team, Simmons got back his old team, I finally managed to keep a patient from dying-"
"And in return, I didn't die!" Donut interrupted, beaming. Wash froze, feeling awkward. He sighed in relief when Doc began again.
"You see, in the end, we all worked together, and everyone got what they wanted."
"Not everyone."
Wash turned as Caboose spoke up. He seemed sad, wistful, and Wash instantly knew what he was talking about. His heart began to sink. "You do realize," he began, knowing what they all thinking, "that if you go after them, there's no promise you'll come back. This isn't a game, not to the Director. He plays for keeps."
Sarge stepped forward, and answered gruffly, "Ah well, this place was getting' kinda stale anyways."
"After everything Church and Carolina said, the way they treated you… After all the times South lashed out at you, and physically hurt you…" He trailed off.
"Hey, we gave you a second chance," Simmons pointed out. Wash nodded thoughtfully, but still wasn't convinced. He turned to the others.
"Besides, if we quit every time Church started shouting, this shit would have been over a long time ago." Grif grinned triumphantly, and Wash had to concede that he had a point.
"We're be out-gunned, we'll be out… everything-ed. This is stupid. Just think for a minute before doing anything reckless." Well, it was stupid. Even if they weren't killed by whatever forces where still protecting the Director, there was still one thing that posed a threat, regardless. South.
"Son, stupid and reckless is how we always get things done," said Sarge. The Red puffed out his chest, but Wash shook his head.
"But, Sarge I-"
"No!" Sarge interrupted him roughly, and stepped forward. "There's one thing you Freelancers always seem to forget: and that's the fact that we manage to kick your ass time and time again. Oh sure, you've got all yer smart plans and fancy armour and yer fancy training, but in the end, what has that got ya? Without a team you can count on, without your fellow soldier by your side, all that really doesn't amount to squat, now does it? So instead of standing there bellyachin' all day, just tell us: are you gonna keep playing it safe? Or are you gonna get a little-" his voice dropped, and Sarge cocked his shotgun, "-reckless?"
"This has got to be the worst idea, ever…" Wash took a breath. But… at least… well, it wasn't the worst idea ever, of all time… "But you can count me in."
"Oooh, me too!" Donut squealed in delight.
"Yes – and me! Oh, Church is gonna be so happy!" Caboose clapped his hands together.
"I am too! Man, this is gonna be so cool; I love how inclusive you guys have become. I'm gonna go pack my medical idea for the trip. Ooh, don't rock the zealot!" Doc laughed, and turned away to get his 'medical gear'. But Wash was occupied by another problem.
"Uh, guys?" Simmons spoke before he could, and all heads swung to face him. "They've got a huge head start. How're we supposed to reach them in time?"
At least he hadn't been the only one to noti-
"Freeze, this is an ambush! You are under arrest for the theft of UNSC property!"
Wash swung to face the speaker – the pilot of a UNSC airship that had dropped down in front of them. Two others hovered in a rough circle around the two teams. Slowly, he grinned.
"It's up here!"
South glanced up at Epsilon's call, and reluctantly walked in his direction. So far, their search of the facility had yielded no results – until now, it seemed. From far away, she could hear another voice.
"I am sorry, this is a secure facility. Only authorized personnel may enter."
"FILSS? Is that you? What's happened to you?" Carolina spoke quickly, her voice laced with quiet horror. South doubled her speed, and slowed to a stop when she reached the pair standing before a large screen attached to a tree. She raised an eyebrow at the lettering on the screen – F.I.L.S.S. – and understood Carolina's words.
"This is a secure facility," FILSS continued pleasantly. "Only authorized personnel may enter. Please, leave the premises immediately."
South pushed forward, shoving Carolina aside. "This is Agent South Dakota of Project Freelancer. Open the door, FILSS."
There was a pause, and then FILSS spoke again. "I'm sorry, but the designation Agent South Dakota is no longer recognized with Project Freelancer."
South closed her eyes, and cursed inwardly. Of course, once she and her brother had escaped the Mother of Invention, the Director and Councilor would no doubt have removed all the traitorous agents from the program listings. Carolina scoffed, and stepped in front of her.
"FILSS, this is Agent Carolina of Project Freelancer. Acknowledge and go for secure." Of course, Carolina had never technically left the program before it had been disbanded. She might still be recognized as an agent –
"I am sorry: I recognize that designation, but only authorized personnel may enter this facility." South smirked at Carolina as the ex-Freelancer faltered. But Carolina just turned to face Epsilon.
"Church?" she asked.
"Open the door, FILSS," Epsilon commanded.
"Certainly," the A.I. responded. Behind them, a door hissed open – previously hidden in the wall. "Welcome back, Director. I did not expect to see you again so soon."
"Thank you," Carolina said, and turned.
"My pleasure." Church and FILSS said it at the same time, and South raised one eyebrow slightly. "Strange." The three turned back when FILSS spoke again. "I was unaware you had left, Director. I will have to scan my files and find the error."
Carolina stepped forward, tipping her head to the side curiously. "Left?"
"Yes," FILSS responded, her voice even and pleasant. "Since his last visit."
"So you show the Director as being inside the facility as well as outside?"
FILSS spoke again, "Strange, is it not?"
"I'll say so," South muttered. They glanced at her.
"Yes… Strange." Carolina looked back at the open door, and gripped her gun with newfound determination. "And exactly what we were hoping for."
"I don't like this."
South rolled her eyes as they advanced through the hall. That fucking AI always had something to complain about, didn't he?
"Me neither," Carolina replied. "Where is everyone?"
Whatever. If they hadn't stationed people outside of the building, that only amounted up to one thing in South's mind; the facility was seriously understaffed. And if it was, wouldn't it make more sense for them to be surrounding the Director?
"That's not it." Epsilon's voice broke through the silence once again. "I've just got a weird sense of… déjà vu."
"Shhh!" South snapped. She had heard something. Instantly, Carolina was still, and Church broke off whatever he had been about to say. South tipped her head to the side, and adjusted the settings on her helmet with a few gestures. A moment later, broken noise began to filter through the speakers.
And don't worry. You'll see me again.
Play it again, FILSS.
Sir, you should really stop to eat. It has been several days.
Again.
Leonard, come on, stop it – they're gonna make me hop.
South let out a shaky breath. She didn't know what it was she could hear, but she didn't like it.
"You're not the only one," Carolina muttered.
Please, I have to go. Don't make me hurt you.
They rounded a corner, and Carolina spied a doorway of to the side. She walked to it slowly, and pushed it open. Shining teleporters blinked back at her, waiting enticingly.
"This is it," Church whispered.
"Ready to meet your maker?" Carolina's voice carried only the hint of mockery.
"I've got your back, Carolina."
South paused, staring wide-eyed at the row of teleporters. Every single one offered escape, freedom – a world where she could melt away and never be found again.
"South?"
It was Carolina. She hovered by one of the teleporters, one hand raised towards her companion. South blinked.
No, she couldn't leave. Not now. She had chosen to come back for a reason.
Besides, if she left now she would spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder and wondering what had become of the people she had left behind.
South took a deep breath, and stepped through the teleporter.
White, blinding light.
Her ears rang, and she blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the film that covered her eyes. After a moment, it melted unwillingly away.
And what she saw made her heart sink.
"Oh, oh no…" Church's whisper was filled with horror. Her heart sank further.
"Church? What is this?" Carolina's voice trembled, and South didn't begrudge her for it.
"He kept trying. He kept trying to get her right." Church was frozen, his gaze sweeping over the rows and rows of black, armoured bodies.
"You think these are anything like the real deal?" asked Carolina.
South snapped her head to the side, fingering her DMR uncertainly. The walls of the huge hall were straight sheets of metal, covered by a dark roof. All in all, it was a standard military facility. Well… except for the things that occupied it.
They stepped forward – all of them. South swept her gaze over them, a quick headcount. She got lost somewhere after sixty. The robots punched their fist into waiting palms, and cracked their necks simultaneously.
One stepped forward. "You have no idea what kind of trouble you are in. Ha. Ha. Ha."
And suddenly, South wished she had taken her chance and stepped into another teleporter – one that had led to freedom.
Because now, she knew they would never make it out alive.
A/N: Since this chapter was extraordinarily late, I'll get to work on the next one ASAP. My other friend has offered her laptop for me to use now at the hospital, so that should be okay. Anyway, see you guys next time ;)
And as always, reviews and concrit are always welcome :)