promuseboxing | open smut post

Hunting down the surviving Freelancers only to come up empty handed time after time was starting to wear Carolina down. Yes, they were all highly trained operatives but for so many to disappear without leaving any real clues to where they might have gone... It felt wrong. They only found Illinois because of the clues left behind in all of York's stories from when they'd hang out. All he'd ever wanted was to enjoy his life after he was done with the Project. A shack with plenty of spiced rum on an island chain and a little red sailboat out in the water. Even after spending only a little time there it was easy enough to see that Illinois had found a little slice of paradise to settle down on.

She couldn't help but think that it must have been nice to know how to relax so easily, to be able to build a life outside of the fight. Their down-time on the moon had only really emphasized that the quiet life hadn't suited her at all.

After inspecting the rest of the island Carolina and Wash turned their attention to the shack. It was a small place, just enough for someone to live simply. Except... Carolina couldn't help noticing a few things that felt out of place. Two stools at the little bar that was stocked with Illinois' favorite spiced rum and a brand of beer that she remembered he wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. Doubles of items that a man living the quiet life on his own wouldn't need multiples of.

"I think that Illinois had a roommate," She said as she picked her way through the kitchen. And then little details started to jump out at her. A half empty glass on the counter. Dirty plates in the sink that looked fresh. Someone was here recently. "I'm going to take a look in the bedroom. Can you see if you can find anything that might tell us who the other person living here might be."

Of course that plan went to hell when the bedroom door flew open before she could get there, her rifle coming up aimed at the new variable in all this. "Put. The gun. Down. We're just looking for Agent Illinois," She said, mind racing as she debated trying to run the bubble shield. She was too close to the roommate to be protected from his fire but she could keep Wash from getting shot. Of course she hadn't run that enhancement since she'd lost Epsilon. "My name is Agent Carolina, this is-"

"Carolina maybe we shouldn't introduce ourselves to the crazy guy..."

"Wash, shut up." Something was bothering her. The voice, angry and shouty as it was, sounded almost familiar.

If York hadn't spent so much time on the run, needing to watch his back at every turn, he would have dropped his gun in his surprise. As it is, his stance as he points the gun at the two of them goes a bit slack before he tenses again, raising the gun slightly higher.

"Carolina," he says, not able to keep a tremolo of hurt out of his voice. "I saw you in the news. I didn't even know you were alive until then."

He takes a small step out of the bedroom doorway, trying to parse whether he should be suspicious, whether he should be afraid, or what. It's times like these he misses Delta fiercely. Delta would be able to put the pieces together swiftly. Delta would know. He pokes the end of his gun in her direction before glancing at Wash and then back at her.

"What do you want? What happened to Illinois? Where is he?"

Wash, meanwhile, is not to be undone, raising his own weapon in caution. But his body language is far more uncertain. "It can't be," is what he says.

It only takes hearing him say her name for the realization to hit her. York. It should have been impossible, Wash had told her about destroying his armor when his recovery beacon had gone off. She had his lighter tucked into the storage compartment like a talisman to remind her not to fuck up like that ever again.

A part of her wants to be angry, though it's quickly squashed down by the guilt that she was the one to play dead first.

"Seems you were better about avoiding the spotlight than me," She says, carefully thumbing the safety on her gun before setting it down. Next was the helmet, dropped onto the floor. If York felt like shooting her there was no way to stop him.

"Carolina, are you sure-"

"It's fine, Wash. Sometimes you need to have a little faith." She says with a faint smile. They were Epsilon's words but they felt right. There's an ache in her chest knowing that York has been alive all this time but there isn't time for that now. Push it down, deal with things one step at a time. She can still use her speed boost to tackle him if he looks ready to fire.

"We've been looking for former freelancers. They're... we're all going missing. We came looking for Illinois because we were hoping to get to him first."

There's a long, long pause then—probably long enough to make the two of them nervous—with York pointing his gun at her, and Wash pointing his gun at York, before York finally relents and slowly lowers the gun to his side. He doesn't realize until he goes to lift his helmet off that he's trembling. He hopes it's not noticeable. But it probably is noticeable the way he struggles to pull his helmet off, the way it seems like he's trying to get it off just to be able to breathe.

"God..."

It's all he can manage. She's still beautiful, still gorgeous, even after all these years have gone by. He walks the rest of the way over to her and raises a hand like he's going to cup her under the chin, but he doesn't do it. Doesn't quite bring his hand close enough to do something like that. Isn't really standing close enough for that, not quite, because he still doesn't know. He doesn't even know what he doesn't know, he's sure of it.

Seeing his face for the first time in years is like a punch to the stomach. For so long the only thing she thought was left of York was the lighter and the personal logs Epsilon had pulled from Freelancer's files. They're both older now and the anger that burned through her for so long back in the project is gone, leaving just a tired woman behind.

"York, I'm sorry I didn't trust you when I had the chance, I..." She shakes her head. "I just want you to know I'm sorry. For everything."

It feels unreal, being able to apologize to York after so long. Carolina had turned the words over in her head time and again on sleepless nights when all she could think about was how she might have fixed things. She'd never thought that she'd have this chance.

Wash finally lowers his gun, realizing he's being utterly ignored. "Maybe I should just, uh..." He backs up a step. "I'll be outside."

York doesn't even glance in Wash's direction. His eyebrows had gone up when Carolina apologized. His hand lowers as he finishes approaching her.

"I... I didn't think you'd say something like that," he says as Wash leaves and closes the door behind him. "I honestly don't expect you to take responsibility for it, like... Well, I never actually told you anything about what I was actually doing, you know? It was stupid of me to expect you to trust me just because of..."

He pauses and lets out a rueful little chuckle, humorless in tone.

"I was going to say 'what we had' but I think what we had wasn't much like what I thought it was at the time."

When Wash retreats she barely notices and can't bring herself to feel too badly about it. He won't go far and he knows that this is something she needs. Instead her eyes stay locked on York, trying to swallow around the feeling of her heart in her throat.

"A few years ago I wouldn't have," She says honestly. "I was out of control." All that anger, the desperation to be the best had turned her into a monster. "It took me a long time to realize just how out of control I was." It had taken Wash holding a gun to her head to drive that point home. And even then it had taken nearly dying for the lesson to really sink in.

"I took a lot of things for granted back then, including you. I thought... someday when-" When her father wasn't a specter hanging over her head. "When the Director wasn't watching constantly I could finally..." She trails off, shaking her head. "By the time I realized how wrong I was it was too late."

"Don't feel guilty, Carolina. You didn't know, and you couldn't have, not with the way I went about things." He still remembers her tone of voice when she accused him of deserting. She was sincerely distressed that he was turning on the organization, which was in part also him turning on her.

He hasn't taken his eyes off of her since the conversation started. He's drinking her in. She's aged, of course, with it having been a few, very stressful years, but she is still radiant with her bright green eyes and red hair. He closes his eyes briefly, as though to check whether he's memorized her new appearance, then opens them.

"I know back during the Project you wanted to put off any like...official relationship stuff. And I totally understood! But I also pushed things a lot, and I don't want it to seem like I'm pushing now, but..."

He shakes his head a little.

"Okay, listen. I know this is our first time seeing each other in a hell of a long time, and I know we never had an official 'thing' to begin with, and I know you used to get upset when I pushed your boundaries, and that's one thing I've been thinking a hell of a lot since I heard you were alive. I don't want to push. I think about that all the time and I think I deserved it every time you got on my case about it. So...yeah."

He chuckles a little, embarrassed.

"This is a lot of words to ask if I can kiss you, isn't it?"

There's so much she wants to say, a thousand apologies she still needs to make because everything that happened to their team was on her. Even as she stands there listening to him ramble, close enough to reach out and touch him it's hard to believe he's right there in front of her. She hasn't heard his voice in months, not since she swore off listening to his logs when she realized how easily it led her to a dark place. After losing Epsilon she couldn't do it anymore. It was easier to lock them away along with Church's last message to her. All of her ghosts kept boxed away where she couldn't chase them.

Except now one of them is right there in front of her and something in her twists.

Before York can even finishing asking to kiss her she's beaten him to the punch. One hand comes up to touch his cheek, the fabric of her gloves too thick to let her feel the scar spreading across his skin. It isn't perfect by any measure, not with so much armor between them. But it's a kiss she never thought she'd get again and that makes it worth every single imperfection.

She shocks him when she reaches for him, and when she goes in for the kiss he trails off talking and lets her press in. There's a moment where he thinks he must be hallucinating this entire encounter—it must be wishful thinking—and then he decides that even if it is, he needs to make the most of it. His arms go around her and he lets out a little hum and kisses her enthusiastically in return, letting her guide the pressure and depth of the kiss. He doesn't want to tread on any boundaries she's still clinging to, after all.

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