Chapter Text
North kept his aim steady as bullets raced overhead. He took a deep breath in, focusing his sniper rifle on the people opposite him, then fired twice in quick succession. Two bodies fell to the ground. York’s head popped out from behind cover, and he gave a quick two finger salute in North’s direction before racing across the compound. North grinned to himself and searched for his next targets. They were in a large courtyard outside an Insurrection compound, and with North’s back to the wall surrounding the courtyard he could focus on picking off enemies.
“Hey, idiot, don’t get in my way,” North heard South speak over their comms, and he barely refrained from rolling his eyes.
“I think this fight is big enough for the two of us. Though maybe not with your ego,” York replied, a smile in his voice.
“Status on the mission?” North interrupted before South could respond.
“I see the computer, but there’s a hostile between me and-” North fired, and another body dropped. “Problem solved, thanks.”
North watched York move up to the control panel in the wall and get to work.
“Alright, download has started, give me… two minutes at mark.”
“Sync.”
“Sync.”
“I’ll keep them busy.” South launched herself out from behind cover, drawing attention and allowing North to pick several enemies off. He didn’t watch the countdown in the corner of his HUD, keeping his focus on the enemies at the other end of his rifle. It was almost relaxing—he was just finding targets and eliminating them, barely needing to think beyond his next shot.
“Aaaand done!”
“Behind you!” South shouted. North swung his sniper rifle around, trying to find York, but he lost them in the chaos of the fight. By the time he focused again, South had already dispatched the enemy.
“Thanks for the assist.”
“Yeah, whatever,” South grumbled, but North heard the pride in her voice.
“Alright, fall back to my position,” North ordered.
York and South ran across the battlefield, alternating between moving back towards North and providing covering fire for the other as they went. North kept an eye on everything, taking out anyone who tried to get a shot off. They worked well as a team—at least when they got their egos out of the way.
South and York had almost joined North at their escape point—a hole they’d blasted through the wall in order to get in—when someone chucked a grenade at them.
“Grenade!” North shouted. York and South dove out of the way as North kicked it back, hoping he wasn’t about to lose a leg.
It was as if time slowed down when he kicked at it. North had enough time to appreciate that he’d made a stupid decision, and noted that the grenade didn’t look… normal. It was black and orange, pulsed like a beating heart, and he swore he heard voices whispering in his ears as he neared it.
His boot made contact, and the world exploded.
North shouted as he was blasted backwards, but he didn’t slam into the wall like he expected. He flew a dozen feet through the air then landed hard and rolled to a stop, his head ringing as stars danced across his vision. Gun fire still sounded around him and he adjusted his grip on his sniper rifle, but when he looked up, his surroundings had changed.
He was in a broken down building of some kind, the center of the roof caved in and allowing enemies to fire down on them from an upper floor. Smoke filled the room and provided some cover—but it wasn’t enough, and there were a lot more enemies than there had been a minute ago. He just hoped that the others were okay.
“North!” He heard South shout, and caught a glimpse of purple through the smoke. He made his way in that direction, dodging bullets as best as he could with his head still ringing.
“Get down!” Wash shouted—wait, Wash? He wasn’t supposed to be on this mission.
North’s confusion cost him valuable time, and he was hit with yet another explosion that threw him through the air. He rolled to a stop next to a soldier in teal—aquamarine?—armor, and groaned.
“Holy shit dude, are you okay?” The soldier asked. “Where the fuck did you come from?” North shook his head, still confused.
“I- I don’t-”
“Hey!“ York and South rushed to his side, and the blue soldier cursed.
“Wash, we’ve got three more people here,” the soldier said. North didn’t hear Wash’s response, which didn’t make sense—why wasn’t he on the Freelancer frequency? The blue soldier nodded and turned to the three of them. “Alright, fine. Can you fight?”
“Can we fight,” South echoed with a scoff.
“Then fucking help me!”
“Who are we fighting?” North asked, shaking off his confusion and lining up his sniper rifle.
“The ones shooting at us, dipshit!” North didn’t know who this soldier was, but he clearly wasn’t part of Project Freelancer—not with the way he spoke; even South wasn’t that bad. North picked off some of the enemies firing on them, then caught sight of gray and yellow armor through the haze.
“Cover me,” North ordered. York and South reacted instantly, providing covering fire as North raced across the room.
“What the fuck? Hey-” the blue soldier’s voice was lost among the din as North ran away from him. North fired blindly at the attackers up on the roof, then dove and rolled to a stop behind cover, right next to a familiar suit of armor.
“Wash, what’s going on? Why are you here?” North asked. Wash flinched at his voice, nearly dropping his gun, and he stared at North for a long moment before deliberately turning away.
“Fuck, not again,” Wash muttered under his breath, focusing his attention back on their attackers.
“Not again?” North echoed, confused. “What do you mean not again? Why are you here? You weren’t supposed to be on this mission!”
“I thought I was past this, damnit!” Wash slammed the butt of his rifle against the wall, still refusing to look at North.
North… didn’t know how to respond to that, so he focused on firing at their attackers, trying to take some out. The blue soldier ran up next to them, taking cover on Wash’s other side.
“Our ride is here,” he announced. “Fucking finally.”
“What about the extra people you saw?”
“Uh, well, one of them is right next to you.”
“What?” Wash looked back and forth between North and the blue soldier quickly. “You can see him?”
“Yeah, of course I can fucking see him. What kind of dumbass question is that? Wait, can you see him?” North was completely lost in the conversation, so he stayed quiet.
“Yes, I just-” Wash glanced at North again. He could feel Wash stewing over something, could read it in his body language, but something about this felt… off. North both did and didn’t recognize the Freelancer next to him. “What color is his armor?” Wash asked, looking at the blue soldier.
“Really? That’s what you wanna talk about right now?”
“Tucker,” Wash ground out. The blue soldier—Tucker—stopped firing and looked at the two of them.
“I don’t fucking know, purple and green. Ask Donut if you want specifics.” Wash sagged against the wall, nearly keeling over.
“Wash?” North tried, still confused.
“Hang on, you guys know each other?” Tucker asked. Wash shook his head and readjusted his grip on his rifle.
“Get him—and the others—to the extraction point,” Wash ordered Tucker.
“What? Dude, you can’t-”
“Now, Tucker.” North barely recognized Wash’s voice—he’d never heard him take that commanding tone before, expecting to be listened to without question. It would’ve been funny if it weren’t so deeply out of character.
“Fucking fine. C’mon.” Tucker headed back to where York and South were crouched, but North didn’t follow.
“Wash, what’s going on? Who was that soldier? Why are you here?” North said, but Wash didn’t look at him.
“Go,” Wash ordered.
“Not until-”
“I said go,” Wash snarled, planting a hand in the middle of North’s chest and pushing him away. “Get out of here. I’ll be right behind you.” There was something wrong with this situation, but North had no idea what it was, so he followed orders.
It wasn’t him.
It couldn’t be him.
It was just his brain playing tricks on him again.
But Tucker saw-
No. It wasn’t him.
He heard his voice-
It wasn’t him.
He saw the purple and green armor and his brain filled in the rest, projecting North’s voice.
It wasn’t him.
It couldn’t be him.
Please, god, let it be him.
North reached the ship first, but South steadfastly ignored the hand he offered to help her get on. She didn’t need anyone’s help, and fuck anyone who tried. York and the blue soldier followed her but Wash had lagged behind.
South still wasn’t entirely sure where they’d ended up, or how, or why Wash of all people was suddenly there. It wasn’t unheard of for the Director to send backup without informing them—fucking Carolina at that fucking cryogenics facility—but usually the agents he sent were good enough to actually provide backup instead of being another obstacle.
“All aboard?” The pilot called out.
“Not yet!” The blue soldier and North shouted at the same time; South didn’t bother suppressing a laugh at the look North shot the soldier—her brother clearly didn’t like how buddy buddy this new guy was with Wash. Whatever, it wasn’t her problem.
When Wash reached the ship, both North and the blue soldier offered a hand to help him up. South rolled her eyes when Wash took the blue soldier’s hand—North was going to complain about that for weeks.
“Good to go,” Wash called out, and the pilot punched it.
The bay door swung shut and the plane fell suddenly quiet, the only noise coming from the thrum of the engine. South and York stood by North’s side near the bay door while the blue soldier stood somewhere between them and Wash, who posted up ten feet away, one hand gripping the overhead rail for balance and half turned away from them.
“So. Where the fuck did you guys come from?” the blue soldier asked.
“Where did you come from?” South fired back. She was full of leftover adrenaline from the fight and not knowing what was going on; if this soldier was going to be a dick then she would be a dick right back.
“You’re the ones who appeared out of nowhere.”
“We don’t have to answer to you.”
“Jesus fucking christ, we just saved your ass!”
“We didn’t need saving.”
“Oh cool, so you’ll be chill if we drop you off? You can take all fucking fifty of them?”
“Enough,” Wash didn’t speak loud, but his voice carried enough steel in it to silence South and the blue soldier—which South didn’t think was possible. It was Wash, after all, but something in his voice was… different. Something about him was different, but South didn’t know him well enough to say what.
There was a beat of silence, none of them knowing what to say.
“I’m Tucker, by the way. And you’re welcome for saving you.” South opened her mouth to retort but York beat her to it.
“Thank you,” York said quickly. “I’ll admit, we’re a little… confused about what happened.” South scoffed—that was an understatement.
“This is the part of the conversation where you introduce yourselves,” Tucker said unhelpfully. South narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, leaning her weight back—yeah, she really didn’t like this guy.
“Wash knows us,” North said. All four of them looked at Wash, but aside from his shoulders tensing up he didn’t make any move to acknowledge them—in fact, he still wouldn’t look at them. Why was he being so weird?
“Yeah, well, it’s Wash,” Tucker said, as if that explained everything. South had never gotten along with Wash, so she wasn’t surprised he had yet to acknowledge her, but she could tell North felt off balance by this weird dynamic with the blue soldier thrown into the mix. Maybe North and Wash had gotten into a fight? But North usually told her when something like that happened—in fact, usually she had to beg him not to tell her all his annoying personal drama.
“I’m Agent York. These are Agents North and South Dakota,” York introduced them. As soon as he spoke, Tucker took a step back, raising his rifle and pointing it at them.
“More fucking Freelancers? Are you fucking kidding me?” Tucker said, backing up until he stood next to Wash. South’s hand twitched towards her gun but she refrained from pulling it—for now.
“We’re not here to cause trouble,” North said, raising his hands in a placating gesture.
“Speak for yourself,” South muttered, and North elbowed her in the side. She elbowed him right back.
“Yeah, right, cause you guys never cause trouble,” Tucker said. He paused, then lowered his gun and tilted his head to the side, directing his next question towards Wash. “Hang on. I thought all the Freelancers were dead?”
“What?” South, North, and York spoke at the same time. Wash sighed, loud enough to be heard over the thrum of the ship’s engines.
“They were,” Wash said, then turned and walked away; he entered the pilot’s area and slammed the door shut behind him. North took a step to go after him, but Tucker stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“It’s a good idea to leave him alone when he gets like this.”
“When he gets like this?” North echoed. South frowned—she’d never seen Wash act like this before. The whole broody-melodramatic-walking-away-with-a-cryptic-one-liner schtick was usually Carolina’s thing.
“Yeah. Unless you want to do, like, a hundred laps.” North retreated back to South’s side, but she kept turning Tucker’s words over in his head. Tucker made it sound like Wash was in charge, but that wasn’t right—that couldn’t be right. It was Wash. South felt like she was missing something, but she had no idea what.
It was him.
It was them.
How was it them?
It couldn’t be them.
They died. They all died.
He killed South himself.
They were supposed to be dead.
Yet there they were, alive and talking.
It had to be some kind of trick or- or something.
He should go back in there and grill them, get to the bottom of this.
The thought of facing them again made his stomach turn, so he stayed up front with the pilot.
He was a coward. He’d always been a coward.
That was the only reason he was still alive.