[video]

[startpoint]

[ The video starts up with the camera staring into the face of a teal/aquamarine/lightish blue helmet that's part of some pretty serious looking combat armor. Once Carolina is sure the TAB is recording she starts speaking. ]

This is Agent Carolina and I'm looking to make contact with the Reds and Blues of Project Freelancer as well as Agent Washington. Or anyone associated with the United Army of Chorus, honestly. If you know what any of that means I'd appreciate the information.

[ She reaches up, the seals on the helmet hissing as it releases, and pulls off her helmet to reveal her face, looking a bit tired and maybe a bit worse for wear. ]

And if you idiots are out there, let me know. I'd rather not have to track you all down again and if I have to you won't enjoy it.

Comments

[infailtration]

[ The wait is agonizing, even if it's not that long, and York is pacing his small room back and forth until the knock on the door comes. Then he freezes mid-step, nearly stumbling. She really came. He expects a gun in his face when he opens the door, but doesn't bother to put his helmet back on, just rushes over and opens it needing to know that she's really here. Some version of her. Hey, maybe he can use the same line again.

He has to turn his head because she's off to the side on his bad side, but there she is... armored and clearly still wary of him but there, and not pointing a weapon at him. ]

...Come in.

[ Okay, not as smooth as he'd hoped, but at least his voice is steady. ]

[startpoint]

[ It's hard to believe this is real, that she's looking at York alive. Before she can convince herself to think better of it she follows York into his room. The temptation to reach out and touch him just to make sure he's real is almost overwhelming. If Epsilon were around he'd probably be telling her to be cool.

It's hard to follow that advice when the subject of most of her regrets is standing just a few feet away. Before York can say anything, Carolina speaks first before she can lose her nerve. ]

I'm sorry, York. For everything that happened at Freelancer. For- [ For never telling him she was alive when she knew he was looking for her. For not trusting him. ] ...I'm sorry.

[infailtration]

[ York's been through this before with her, with another version of Carolina, and it's no easier the second time. He breathes out and curbs the impulse to reach for her. Because to her this is the first time, and he doesn't need to make it more difficult. ]

...I know. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you what we were doing and why, back when I defected. Maybe if you'd understood, things would have been different.

I won't tell you it's okay, because it's not, but. We can make up for it.

[startpoint]

[ It would almost be easier if he were angry. Part of her wants him to yell, to make some kind of a scene because he might have left but she was the one who bought into a lie with everything she had. ]

...I probably wouldn't have listened, I was too angry.

[ Time has tempered the fire that had nearly consumed her back during Freelancer and given her strands of grey in her hair and new scars. And there aren't any words she can think of that might things better. She's not sure she should after messing up so badly. ]

I don't know if I can make up for this, York. I... [ She's tired, misses Epsilon so damn much in this moment. Why did he have to go with Tucker to the temple? The empty space in her head where he'd normally be giving commentary feels like too much. One hand comes up to rub her face so she has a moment to compose herself a little. ] Tell me to shut up if I keep apologizing. Please.

[infailtration]

[ He doesn't yell, just nods. He'd made the right call, back then, but it was so easy to imagine things going better than they had. A happy ending. It's so easy to feel like he'd messed things up. When in reality he'd done all he could... but he'd never accepted that.

This is so painful -- going through it all over again, watching her struggle with the guilt. She must be from a different point than last time, that this time around she's forgiven him. But she hasn't let go. He doesn't know whether to be grateful of that or not. When she rubs at her face he does reach out, fingers curling around hers to pull her hand down and squeeze gently. ]

Hey. I'm easy, 'Lina. And I'm right here, telling you you can.

[startpoint]

[ The Alien AI's test did a lot to tear open old wounds, remind her how much she missed her teammates and how badly she failed them. The fact that she's exhausted from fighting Felix and Locus, having an alien temple dropped on her head and then dealing with too damn many mantis tanks.

York's hand on hers startles her out of the fog that was threatening to settle on her mind. Shock? It was possible. She knows she's not at her best right now. ]

Thanks, York. [ It doesn't feel real, having him right there in front of her. He's solid and before she can help herself she's squeezing his hand back. ] I'll remember that.

[infailtration]

[ They'll figure it out this time, he tells himself. They have to -- he's not missing out on what's effectively a third chance. She squeezes his hand back instead of pulling away and he thinks that there's hope for them.

Her grip is shaky, though, and York isn't blind. She's not just tired, she's pale, her armor dented and bloody, odds being that some of it is hers. ]

...take your armor off. I'll patch you up.

[startpoint]

I'll be fine, my healing unit- [ She stops midsentence when it hits her. Her healing unit is about as useful as a paperweight without Epsilon to run it for her. ] Right. I guess I got too used to having Epsilon around.

[ She starts to take her armor off piece by piece, feeling oddly self-conscious about the process. Or maybe not so odd considering her audience. ]

[infailtration]

[ While she's stripping off her armor York vanishes into the bathroom, coming back with a very well stocked first aid kit. Bandages, antiseptic, cold packs, suture kits; he's prepared for almost anything. He sets it on the bed and tries not to stare at Carolina as she eases her survival suit off her shoulders. It's a little easier when the wounds are visible and he has those to focus on instead of just smooth pale skin and too-familiar curves. ]

Sit down.

[ She's got new scars to go along with the grey in her hair and wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. York's fingers skim over them as he cleans her wounds, as gentle as he can manage. ]

This one needs stitches.