(A/N) Hey guys, sorry this one is coming late yet again, had some problems with FFN while trying to upload it. Seems like their system was down for a few hours or so, but it's all okay, because I've got the latest chapter in Phase Two: Betrayal for you now! We get to see a little more of what's been going on since the shutdown of Project Freelancer, from the POV of Agent South Dakota, written, as always, by the amazing Lili-Hunter. Keep an eye out for some extra updates that'll be coming out from us soon! We've got two new fics out specifically for X-Ray and Vav and Grifball: Running Rampant one-shots, and soon enough I'll be announcing some information on applications for this fic. Keep your eyes peeled!
Enjoy!
Chapter Three - It's a Beautiful Life
Agent South Dakota
Written by Lili-Hunter
"I'm fiercely independent, but I'm also terrified of being alone." – Adam Levine
Contrary to popular belief, South was an early riser. Her eyes opened, tiredly, at just past six as the morning sun spread warmly across her curled body. She lay still for a few minutes, letting consciousness return fully to her limbs before she forced her legs to swing over the edge of the bed.
She glanced down as she stood, unsurprised to see that she'd kicked off her sheets in the night. South shoved the problem out of her mind – North would probably help her fix it later – as she changed quickly into fresh clothes, and crossed the small hallway to bang her fist against her twin's shut door to wake him. The apartment they shared was small, and the sound probably carried to the neighbouring units, but she ignored that, too.
Receiving no answer, South yanked the door open. North was sleeping on his side, blanket pulled up under his arms, which were loosely encircling the empty space beside him. At the sight, her smirk faded, thoughts turning bitter as she remembered the many times she'd crawled into that very embrace, fighting back tears as she sought solace in only his presence; the times she'd curled her knees into her chest, tucked her forehead under his chin, and felt reassured as his steady breathing calmed the choking panic pressing from behind her aching chest.
Not this time. Swept up by sudden viciousness, South strode forward and kicked the side of his bed. North's face scrunched up in displeasure as the frame rocked, throwing a forearm over his eyes. "Hey," he grumbled, "wha-"
"Get up," she snapped. Without another explanation, South turned on her heel and stomped out of the room. She heard her brother groan unhappily, but knew that he'd eventually follow.
The apartment was tiny, and barely furnished, amounting only to a small, lumpy couch that sat in front of the television, the two single beds that they slept on, and a few odds and ends – such as their kettle, and cutlery – that they'd assembled in the kitchen. It had been a unanimous decision – excluding York, who'd wanted the biggest television screen money could buy – to not waste money on their temporary accommodation.
Because that was all it was, right? South tried to steady her thoughts as she stared, annoyed, at the rooms that had so quickly become theirs. This – all of it – was only temporary. They'd be called back into duty at any moment, just as soon as the dumbass UNSC decided that Project Freelancer was fit to be continued.
Somehow, South still wasn't reassured.
North emerged a few moments later, his hair sticking up in weird places and a patient smile curling his lips. South knew that she should feel bad for snapping earlier, but she just didn't want to regret it – and so she shoved that thought away too, forcing a huff. "Took you long enough."
North ignored the spite in her words. "So, what are we doing?" he asked, covering a yawn with the back of his hand as he tilted his head curiously.
She knew what he was really asking. What's wrong? South didn't have an answer, not really – but the irritation still prickled painfully beneath her skin, her muscles twitching with useless frustration. She wanted to do something. She just didn't know what.
So she remained silent, lifting her shoulders in the angriest shrug she could manage – which was damn harder than it sounded – and was unsurprised when North nodded understandingly. Of-fucking-course. Trust him to know what's going through her head before even she does.
Instead of putting her out of her misery, North straightened and tossed her a grin. "Breakfast?"
It was as good a plan as any, and so South nodded.
When the seven Freelancers had first moved in, there'd been the small issue of room arrangements. Each apartment had only three rooms – two that they converted into small bedrooms, and another small space that blended a tiny kitchen with an equally small living room. It was a weird set-up, but the best that they'd found on such short notice.
It was only logical that North and South would bunk together – though she'd felt a not-so-small stab of anger as they'd taken the choice away from her, again – but the others weren't so easily grouped. York and Carolina had wanted, clearly, to share an apartment – South hadn't even bothered hiding a snicker at that, despite North's murmured admonishment – but California and Georgia's… 'situation'… had sunken that ship pretty quickly.
To put it bluntly, they were worn-thin baskets stuffed full of crazy. Well, Georgia wasn't so bad: mostly, he stayed quietly in his room – except for the odd bang or crash. None of them had any idea what he was doing in there, but the sounds were oddly reminiscent of the nights when he and Ark would stay up and engineer some kind of new weapon. So they left Georgia to his own devices, trusting him to recover on his own.
California was worse, though he still made some attempt at interaction. Ever since Mich's death, he'd spent his days in a mostly-drunk, raging, though ominously silent stupor, coming to himself only when they'd shoved food under his nose, or dragged his stinking ass to the gym. Mostly, though, he slumped on the couch and watched daytime re-runs of trashy reality shows. Sometimes, South could swear that she heard him talking to himself; fists curled and jaw clenched as he spat insults at whatever it was that he thought talked back to him. That wasn't to say, however, that he'd lost his touch – South could still feel her jaw ache sometimes, from the time when he'd crashed his fist into her teeth after she'd made a callous remark.
South didn't even remember what she'd said, though she knew it had had something to do with Mich. It wasn't like she hadn't known they'd been a couple – or whatever it was that they had been – but, well, she'd thought that he was completely out of it at the time. Hardly her fault, no matter what Carolina had yelled.
Anyway, after a few minutes of hushed arguing, it had been decided. Carolina was sharing an apartment with Georgia, and York would bunk with California. Florida had elected to stay by himself, claiming that he "wouldn't be much help with the youngsters" – referring, South assumed, to the Absent Brainiac and current Mr. Comatose – and that he'd be perfectly fine in an apartment by himself.
Not that each of them spent much time in their respective apartments, choosing instead to crash in Carolina and Georgia's whenever they were awake by unspoken, unanimous decision. South didn't know how it had ended up with their old leader's place as the metaphorical 'base' – it just had.
North closed the door quietly behind them, locking it and slipping the key into his pocket. Not that the flimsy wood would make much of a barrier if someone truly decided to break in, but what did they have worth stealing, anyway?
They walked, effortlessly silent, down the hall before pausing outside No. 14. North rapped on the door with his knuckles, glancing over his shoulder. He obviously didn't want to disturb the neighbours, despite the fact that they didn't even know if they had neighbours.
It wasn't so much that they were purposefully avoiding anyone else, but…. Yeah, that was exactly what they doing. Not much sense in broadcasting the fact that the newest residents were a group of highly trained, highly lethal super-soldiers, was there?
The door cracked open, and Carolina was suddenly standing in the breach. "Come in," she invited them – despite the fact that they were hardly waiting for permission. Well, maybe North was. South didn't particularly care.
Even so, she managed to nod a friendly greeting as she passed, ducking into the apartment. What could she say? Nothing quite like a few weeks spent living together in the absolute middle of nowhere – Reach, actually, but that didn't sound nearly as poetic – to encourage good relations.
Predictably, Georgia was nowhere to be seen as North led the way to the kitchen. They kept all their food in the one fridge – they'd had it all spread between them for the first couple of weeks, but running between them for all the odds and ends had quickly become tedious.
However, as early as it was, the others were already assembled there. York was sprawled in a wooden chair at the table, his forehead creased in small lines of concern as he watched over California. The Freelancer was curled up on the couch before the television, which blared some trashy reality show. South snorted, noting the way that California tensed at the sound. His head moved fractionally – enough to give the blonde a heated glare from over his shoulder. Florida chewed at his nails from the seat beside him.
"Come on, Cal," she groaned, feeling a faint flash of twisted pride as the words curled with condescension. The edge of her mouth twitched, halfway between a smirk and a sneer. "There's no way you actually like this stuff."
Still silent, and without looking, California flipped her off. He seemed tense, though, riding a knife's edge over whatever precipice beckoned him. He muttered something under his breath, but didn't say anything to her directly - and so she chose to press her luck.
South dropped into the chair next to York, leaning back so that her sneakered feet could rest on the table. North brushed her shoulder with his hand as he passed, as if to say 'Knock it off', but the silent communication only emboldened her further. The gripping soles of her shoes squeaked as she crossed her ankles, throwing another glance towards California. "Put it on something better."
"Nope." His hands tightened, curling possessively around the remote on his thigh. A smirk tugged at the sides of his mouth, and California's gaze slid over to meet hers; unflinching, and undoubtedly - almost enticingly - confrontational.
Finally.
South's mouth opened in exaggerated surprise, the ends of her lips quirking into a delighted smile as she forced back a laugh full of surprise. Unlike the good ol' Project Freelancer days, when Cal could be trusted on to get into fights whenever she so much as looked at him wrong, California had been largely ignoring her lately – seemingly occupied by his not-so-subtle conversations with thin air – and if South were perfectly honest, she was bored. Right now, though, Cal provided an excellent distraction. "Ah, so the mutt can bark."
"Shut up, bitch," he shot back.
"Can it, South," Carolina interrupted, before the blonde could reply. She sent her a warning glance, but South only tossed her short hair. Hell, but she wasn't going to stop now. Things were finally getting interesting.
"Give it up, Cal," she needled him, satisfied to see the annoyance building in his expression. South smoothed her smirk away with all the professional skill she possessed, adding another demand, "Pass the remote here."
"Guys." Another warning, this time from North's lips. She brushed it aside with a wave of her hand.
Cal was just beginning to crack. She could see it as his fingers twitched – imagining, maybe, that they were wrapped around her throat. She didn't bother suppressing the smirk this time, as she leant forward. "Change the fucking channel, dweeb."
"Dweeb? Dweeb? Oh my God, you've got to be kidding me," California snickered. He turned fully in his seat to face her. "You're so pathetic," Cal snapped, his upper lip curling. "God, it's no wonder that even your own brother can't stand you-"
"'Lina, we're out of eggs," North raised his voice to cover their argument – effective, South conceded with no small degree of annoyance, as Cal fell silent once more. The Freelancer slumped back into his seat, and South barely held back a frustrated sigh, ignoring the sharp pinch in her sternum at his final insult. California ignored them all, and she thought she saw his lips moving again, though he didn't say anything more to her.
"What? We had a whole dozen left yesterday, I was sure of it…" the redhead muttered, moving beside her twin. Her fingers drummed on the fridge door distractingly.
"Plus milk, coffee, and honey," York added, listing the items on one hand. "I forgot to tell you," he said innocently as they both turned to look at him.
"But where did it all go?" Carolina muttered. Just as she spoke, however, one of the mysterious bangs echoed from Georgia's room. They all turned to look, more than slightly concerned, before York coughed awkwardly.
"Well, that answers that," he told them wisely, with no small amount of amusement. What the hell would Georgia be using eggs for? But Carolina also smiled, the tight lines around her eyes softening as she glanced at him. South rolled her eyes, and coughed loudly. The two Freelancers glanced away from each other, and North shot his twin a reproachful glance for ruining their 'moment', though a small spark of amusement danced in his eyes.
"Damn," Carolina covered quickly. "I guess I can-"
"I'll go," North offered quickly, as she'd known he would. "Supermarket's just around the block."
"Are you sure?" she questioned, turning to face him. "You always go-"
"It's no trouble," he assured her. North closed the fridge, and caught South's eye. "Do you want to come with me?"
God, no. She wanted to stay behind and pick a fight with Cal – the only willing participant – and feel the adrenaline rush through her like it hadn't done in weeks. She wanted to feel the pain as her knuckles cracked against someone's jaw; the stretch of her muscles as she flexed and dodged.
But this wasn't Project Freelancer. She couldn't do that. Not anymore.
So she huffed irritably, feeling the warm air roll past her lips as she climbed to her feet. "Fine."
North smiled again – God, did he ever stop? – but South turned away.
South's small backpack bounced between her shoulder blades as the twins passed through the large, automatic glass doors of the supermarket. Her nose wrinkled, almost subconsciously, as the nearly overwhelming scent of cleaning products hit. Ugh. She understood wanting the stored food to remain hygienic, but really? Overkill.
North seemed unaffected by it though, pausing by the entrance to pick up one of the bright red baskets and hooking it onto his arm. South shoved her hands into her pockets and followed, biting at her lip.
The walk through the streets to the supermarket had been quiet, the silence interrupted only by the chatter of the crowds and the occasional mutter as one of the twins would point something out to the other – a familiar store, an oddly-coloured pet, or some new fashion fad that they'd missed while fighting in deep space. But their low conversation hadn't been the only constant in South's mind. Pressing softly, but insistently, at the edge of her thoughts were four, tiny little words:
It's better like this.
And it was. North and South were simply two halves of a whole. They'd once been likened to magnets – sometimes they just clicked together, impossible to separate. Other times they fought – or she did, because North had never, ever raised a hand against her – and repelled fiercely. But they'd never left each other's side for longer than a day.
Because really, South just didn't know any other way to be. He'd been born first – so she'd never spent a single second of her life truly alone. She'd grown up in crowds: in a family; a team; a military squad; and finally, in Project Freelancer.
To tell the truth, though, she was getting pretty fucking sick of this one.
Carolina had never really left the Project. She was still there with the Director – and most importantly, with the leaderboard. Or maybe her competitive streak was just an inherent part of her personality. South didn't know, and she didn't particularly care enough to stick around and find out.
York wasn't terrible, she supposed. He helped out where he could, was best friends with her brother, and took care of Cal when no one else offered to. In that way, he was still stuck in the same old mould: an important team member, but not one that she really took notice of. Florida was much the same; cheerful and optimistic as always – but she'd never been more than teammates with him in the Project, and nothing had changed since then.
Except, of course, that they were no longer even that.
And God, don't even get her started on Georgia and Cal! They were just so… pathetic! Relying on the others to take care of them, and just wallowing in their grief. It hardly helped that the Project was momentarily disbanded; South was sure that some distraction – any distraction – would have done a load of good for them. As it was, they had nothing to dwell on but the memories of those they had lost – and Arkansas, in more ways than one. But they'd long passed the point where they'd had South's sympathy. No, now she was disgusted by them – their sickening dependence on the kindness of others; something that shouldn't ever be relied upon.
South had already learned that lesson the hard way.
Something warm brushed against her forearm, and her musings were abruptly interrupted. Startled, South glanced up, into a pair of bright grey eyes. "Hey," North asked, concern threading through the single word. "You okay?"
He must have noticed her silence – a rare enough occasion, even when they were alone. South glanced down, noting that the basket was now filled with a bottle of milk, honey, and a loaf of bread. When her gaze flickered back upwards, North was still waiting. The words that flew out of her mouth next surprised even her.
"Let's leave," she urged him.
In that instant, his expression flipped. Concern made way for a sparkle of amusement, his lips quirking into a smile. "Now?" he laughed, standing with perfect posture once more. "We just got here. At least let me grab the rest of the groceries."
Oh. South dug her fingernails into her palm, mentally kicking herself. "No," she ground out, from between clenched teeth. "Let's leave them. Carolina, York, Florida, and the two psychos. Let's go, now!"
Her brother's face fell slightly, but enough for her to notice the change. But South didn't care. And she was too swept up in her sudden flare of passion to realize what it meant.
South tugged at the red basket on his arm. He let it slip, but not fall. North's eyes held hers, some emotion that she couldn't name swimming in their depths as she continued. "Come on," she told him, "We can do it! You know we can. Like Virginia, and Wyoming, and the others. We can just go! Leave them behind!"
The corners of his mouth were turning down. She wanted to wipe it away, to fill him with the same elation that filled her. Why wasn't he excited? They could leave! No matter where they went, they'd get word as soon as the Project started up again. There was nothing holding them back – they were free to go!
So why wasn't he agreeing?
"Georgia and Cal-" he began.
South curled her lip, lifting her shoulders in a contemptuous shrug. "Who cares?" she laughed. "It's not our problem, North!"
Too late, she spotted the light crease between his eyebrows; the small, disappointed twist in his lips; and most importantly, the flash of hurt in his troubled grey eyes.
"South," he began slowly, and suddenly, she understood. Away from the Project, away from the Leaderboard… there was no doubt that he had expected them to go back to their old ways, their old names.
Instead, she'd called him North. Without any hesitation.
"We can't just leave," he continued, voice growing soft. "Georgia and Cal – they need us, South. It wouldn't be right just to leave them behind. Especially with what they're going through right now."
"'Going through'? Give me a fucking break-"
"How would you feel if it was the other way around?" North reminded her, gently.
South broke off mid-sentence, her throat choking around the words. It felt like he'd just gutted her. Life without North wasn't something she ever devoted much thought to, simply because it was too painful. Sure, she thought about life on her own a lot – with no one to answer to but herself – but even in those few, wistful imaginings, North was never dead. And if North didn't die peacefully of old age, then God help whoever ended his life, because they'd better spend the remainder of theirs running from her.
The lines around his eyes softened, as though North knew exactly what she was thinking. "Besides," he said, subtly changing the subject, "I know that you don't think so, but we're aren't just teammates anymore. We're friends, and we have to stick by each other."
A slow burn of anger spread beneath her sternum at the implication – South didn't have to take care of anyone: it wasn't her job, wasn't her responsibility; and besides, the only thing she'd ever been good at taking care of was herself, and even then it was a pretty piss-poor job – but the thought of her twin brother being taken from her was one that had stuck, numbing her reactions. She couldn't bring herself to respond to him. North seemed to take it as a sign of agreement, and he dropped the subject, turning away.
It took only a few minutes to round up the rest of the items, though North had had to ask one of the assistants about where to find the coffee beans, and in no time at all, South found herself standing beside her brother as he poked and prodded at the self-service machine. He was scanning their items and dropping them into plastic bags while she stood and watched, her thumbs hooked into her pockets and shooting dark glares at anyone daring to look twice at her brother. He stuck out from the crowd, as did she; everything from his haircut, to the muscles that his black t-shirt couldn't hide, and to his faded pink scars just screamed military. They all looked away though, blushing, as soon as they met her furious gaze. Eventually, despite the mix of hurt and resentment still swirling in her uncomfortably tight chest, she lowered her voice and hissed a complaint. "They're all staring."
"Of course they are," was his response. North tossed her a sad smile, lifting one shoulder in a small shrug. "We're in the middle of a war; they're hoping that the return of a few soldiers might herald something good, for a change."
Well, it didn't, beyond the fact that the UNSC were fucking stupid and wouldn't know what to do with a Freelancer if one punched them in the face – which South had half a mind to actually do. She huffed, scowling, but her attention was once again captured when the machine beeped.
North sighed, and ran a hand agitatedly through his hair as he read the on-screen notification. He turned to her, looking faintly sheepish. "Do you have any money on you?" he asked. "This is more expensive than I thought it would be."
South rolled her eyes, muttering "dumbass" under her breath, and dug a hand into her small backpack. Her hand rooted around, eventually pulling free a tiny black purse – an ugly necessity. It unclasped easily enough, falling open into her hands, and South's thumb brushed against her gym membership card before she yanked a small bundle of cash free.
Yeah. She had a damn gym membership card. As though she were just another domesticated, middle-aged soccer mom desperate to shave off a few kilos before summer.
The thought made her sick. She was a fucking Freelancer, damn it! She should be out in space kicking Insurrectionist ass – not trotting around grocery stores.
The anger that swirled in her chest was achingly familiar, and sickeningly comforting for reasons that South didn't even want to try and decipher. At the very least, it was something to focus on besides the tight pinch behind her clavicle whenever she thought of the fact that they were staying.
Because North didn't want to leave; didn't want to be alone with her. He'd shot her down without even fully considering it first, brushing her suggestion off easily. Like it had been a no-brainer.
Her own brother had picked them over her, even though she'd been willing – begging, really – to drop everything and disappear with him.
It hurt more than she was willing to admit.
But anger was so much simpler than the cluster of emotions currently choking her throat, and she sank willingly into its embrace. South shoved the cash into her brother's hands with a little more viciousness than was probably necessary. Luckily, North caught all of the notes, and spared her only one odd look before turning back to the machine.
She waited sullenly until he was ready to leave, letting North take the heaviest plastic bags. He didn't complain though, and so she brushed aside the small tendrils of guilt attempting to hook claws into her chest.
The twins walked in comfortable silence back to the apartments, though South's mind was still whirring. A tiny portion of her brain was thinking about what he'd said, trying to put herself in Georgia and Cal's shoes. She imagined watching as the life faded from North's eyes, imagined the pain that would rip her heart in two if they were ever separated like that. Imagined the despair, the loss of purpose, and the loneliness that would surely engulf her.
Suddenly, she wondered if he would feel the same way.
The thought took her by surprise, slamming viciously into her mind. Internally, South reeled, almost physically stumbling. But despite the shock, she couldn't help but chase the thought.
Would he? Would North be as broken, as lost, without her – as she would be without him?
South shoved her hands deep into her pockets, desperate to hide the way that they trembled. Her heart was pounding, slamming painfully into her ribcage. Her lungs seemed suddenly shrunken, like she wasn't getting enough air. Even so – even with her body physically trying to resist entertaining the idea – she couldn't help but wonder if he would be okay.
A moment later, she knew. York, Carolina, and the others; they'd help him through his grief, numb him to the pain of her passing – and slowly but gradually take her place.
South swallowed against the sudden bitterness coating the back of her throat, and tried desperately not to let herself think about it.