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They lose Carolina first.
The mission is supposed to be a simple one, just a bit of recon. She kisses Kimball and then York before heading for her motorcycle. It’s not a bad way to remember her at least, proud and tall, her hair moving faintly in the wind before she pulls her helmet on.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
She isn’t, and the words ring in Kimball’s head again and again when the radio goes dead four hours later. Tucker’s the one that goes out to find her, he comes back with Epsilon in his head and a few broken bits of a familiar helmet. They put in a report and then neither of them speak for a week. They don’t have to. Kimball doesn’t mean to read the report more than once, but she finds herself looking over it again and again.
A soft green light blinks at her from the desk, but it doesn’t pull her attention from the text that she already knows by heart until it speaks.
“General Kimball, you really should get some rest,” Delta says, voice softer than she’s used to hearing from him.
Taking a great gulp of air, she drags her hands over her face. “I know. I know. I just…”
“What you’re experiencing is a normal part of the grieving process. However… I am aware that this knowledge does not make the process any easier. I believe I have said as much before, but I am truly sorry for your loss, general.”
“Thank you, Delta.” The condolences have been pouring in for a week and a half now.
It’s no secret that Carolina had found her way into Kimball’s heart after only a few days of casual companionship. She had been hesitant at first. Love in the middle of a war wasn’t the kind of thing that tended to last. But they were both adults, admittedly ones who weren’t the most in touch with certain emotions anymore, but they had settled on a more casual arrangement.
It stayed casual for all of a week before Kimball awoke one morning to Carolina carefully setting coffee on her bedside table and looking at her like she was worth winning the war for. From there, really there wasn’t any going back. There were a few bumps, including one rather large York shaped one.
He had arrived in a ship that had barely been in one piece before it got dragged out of space. The wreckage had been empty when their patrols had arrived to examine it, but Kimball had found him herself, trying to break into an older outpost. From the first words out of his mouth, she knew he was too charming for his own good. Still, he had agreed to come quietly and to cooperate.
Then he and Carolina saw each other and Kimball was sure that time stopped for the two of them. It was like being in a movie and suddenly being relegated to the role of side character. But Kimball had swallowed her breaking heart and left them to it. She had a planet to save anyway, it had been naive for her to think she could have anything close to a personal life on top of all that.
Her people needed her, and she would always put them first.
But then, that night, there had been a knock at her door. Carolina had given her one look and Kimball was pulling her into her arms. They spent the better part of the night talking, about them, about Chorus, about York, all the things that were keeping them up to begin with. It was all strange and complicated now, but neither of them were the sort to ever give up.
York had approached the day after, a picture of earnest respect, assuring her that, as long as Carolina was happy, he wouldn’t get in the way. From then on, it was impossible not to like him.
It was a gradual thing, two becoming three, but a natural one. York and Carolina fit together, it was easy enough to see that, but there was space enough for Kimball, in fact, sometimes she felt a bit like the glue keeping them from falling back into old habits. There were more talks, more late nights, a few stilted silences, but it all came together.
Kimball knows now she shouldn’t have expected it to last.
Rolling her stiff shoulders, she glances at Delta. His hologram isn’t as mobile as Epsilon’s, who sometimes likes to sit on the end of her desk, feet swinging over the edge like he’s really there. But there’s still a comforting presence there. She looks at him for a moment, one eyebrow rising.
“Should I be expecting York?”
“He did not send me, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It’s not.”
Delta flickers for a moment. She knows him well enough now to recognize his version of awkwardly shuffling his feet. “I expect he may be arriving shortly, yes. He has also been having trouble sleeping.”
The corners of Kimball’s eyes crinkle, a rush of fondness for the AI mingling with a slight stab of guilt. “You’re worried about him too.”
“The last time Agent Carolina was presumed dead… York did not handle it well. I am concerned he may be slipping into old habits once again.”
Kimball knows a little about that. The Freelancers have always told their history in bits and pieces, anecdotes that get bitten off as soon as they take a painful turn and stories that trail away into nothing as their gazes go distant. She’s no stranger to things like that, there have been more than a few moments where one of them had to give her a gentle shake to pull her back from a long ended nightmare.
Delta and Epsilon keep their secrets for the most part, but they had always been a bit more lax with Kimball, giving her the cues when she needed to bridge the gap. That’s probably what Delta’s doing now.
The faint knock on her door a few moments later isn’t a surprise, nor is the way Delta quietly logs off as she moves to answer it.
“Hey there, Vanessa. You’re up late.” York smiles, but it’s frayed around the edges. There’s dark circles under his eyes that have to be as bad as Kimball’s. His posture is casual, but she knows him well enough to pick up on the twitching fingers and the slump to his shoulders. She offers a hand and he takes it.
They try to put each other back together, but there’s always a piece missing.
Epsilon moves into Kimball’s head two weeks after they lose Carolina. He’s been hovering between Tucker and Caboose and making all three of them miserable. And as much as Kimball sympathizes and wants to give them time to grieve, time isn’t a resource they have.
“I just don’t wanna leave him alone, y’know?” Tucker says as he walks her to Caboose’s room. “He’s really fucked up about it.”
“I can imagine. He won’t be alone, Tucker. You have my word. But I need you and Caboose back in the field.” And she’s already taken the necessary steps, the back of her neck still covered with a bandage.
Dr. Grey has proved herself an asset in ways Kimball could never have imagined. Recreating the Freelancer neural implants had taken her just a few days. They aren’t a perfect match and the operation wasn’t exactly the most pleasant experience, but it’s enough to give Epsilon somewhere to go, someone to connect with while Tucker and Caboose are away.
Caboose is teary and sniffling when he opens the door and Tucker sighs. “Church what the fuck? Did you make him cry again?”
“Hey, it’s not my fault! The big baby starts blubbering about everything,” Epsilon projects his hologram over Caboose’s shoulder, curled in on himself and irritated.
Kimball counts to five in her head. “Epsilon, I’d like you to come with me for a while.”
“Yeah? Why? You need me for something?” There’s only the faintest edge to Epsilon’s voice. He hasn’t wanted to go in a storage unit since Tucker brought him back. In hushed tones, Tucker had said that he’d almost panicked when Caboose tried to put him in a computer.
“It’s cause when she… when Carolina died, she forced him out first,” Tucker had told her, glancing over his shoulder as if he expected Epsilon to appear around the corner and start screaming. “He was stuck in a storage unit and just had to watch it happen. If he was still in her head, he’d be gone too. I think it kinda freaks him out now.”
That was more than understandable, and the reason Kimball now wakes up with an itch at the back of her neck and faint ache in her head that doesn’t seem to want to go away. “I have some files I’d like you to help me organize.”
“Doesn’t sound like something you need an AI for.” He’s stubborn, but he’s just scared, Kimball doesn’t need him in her head to know that.
She reaches up and slowly peels the bandages from the back of her neck. “Maybe not, but I wouldn’t mind the company. And I don’t want Dr. Grey’s work to go to waste. So hop in.”
“Wait, what? Kimball what the fuck? Why did you--this is--” His voice stumbles and stutters, his hologram flickering. He looks between her and Tucker and finally lets out a staticy sigh. “Okay, okay, fucking fine.”
The hologram disappears and for a second, nothing happens. Then there’s a faint pulse at the back of her neck and Kimball quickly grabs the door frame for balance. It’s like a stone drops into her head, but not quite. Like someone grabbing her from behind and wrapping themselves around her, but not quite. A spark going through every nerve as Epsilon settles in and makes the world spin.
Huh , thinks a voice in her head that isn’t hers. Grey did really well with these. It’s roomy in here. Uh, that probable sounds weird. You okay, Kimball?
“Fine, just fine,” she mumbles as she tries to blink the world back into focus. There’s hands on her arm, Tucker, trying to make sure she doesn’t fall. Taking a breath, she straightens up and squeezes his shoulder. “I’m alright. This is just… going to take a little getting used to.”
Yeah, no kidding.
Epsilon proves to be a decent roommate… if he can really be called that. He’s quieter than she expects, at least at first, keeping himself mostly in the confines of the implants, not reaching out to the rest of her mind much. It still takes some adjusting, getting used to a new voice in her head, but at least York is there to empathize.
He winds an arm around her waist when she’s grimacing and rubbing at her head. “Implants giving you trouble?”
“Is it that obvious?” She leans back into him and lets him keep her up.
“Only a little. I’m kinda impressed honestly. You should’ve seen me when I first got Delta. I was pulling him every night cause I couldn’t deal.”
She doesn’t have that option, and she might not take it even if she did. Shaking her head a little, she lets out a breath. “It’s not so bad, it’s less Epsilon and more… everything feels heavier. No, that’s not quite it. I don’t really know how to put it.”
“I know what you mean.” He settles his head on her shoulder. “No one warns you what it’s like having a whole other person in your head. And these guys are just part of a person, can’t even picture what it’s like having a whole AI in there.”
There’s a twinge of irritation in her head at that, a faint annoyed mutter at being called a ‘part of a person’. She has to bite back a laugh as she reaches out, which is one of the stranger sensations she’s ever had, and tries to soothe Epsilon in her head. It’s stranger still when he reaches back, a faint brush that makes goosebumps rise on her arms. But it isn’t a bad feeling, just a new one.
The newness of it has begun to fade when York gets brought in with a hole in his gut that can’t be repaired.
Epsilon nudges her with the incoming ping, projecting himself suddenly on her desk. “Kimball, we got a report coming in. It’s… it’s bad.”
“Where are they?” She knows the team, the mission had been a risky one to begin with, so she had sent her best.
“Already heading to the infirmary,” Epsilon says, hologram already moving with her as she grabs her helmet and rushes from the office. He gives her only slight nudges, directing her around crowds, getting her there in record time.
It’s worse than she expects, so much worse. Dr. Grey’s running the room like it’s a battle, giving orders with an impossibly fluid kind of grace, dancing around medics and York’s gurney, never once seeming to pause for breath. Wash is at York’s side, holding onto a blood covered hand, Delta floating in the air between them. They both shift over to give Kimball room when she approaches.
One look at his face and she knows how it’s going to end. Her eyes burn, but she forces a smile into place as she brushes the hair back from his ghostly pale face. His eye is already a little glazed over, but he smiles back. “Hey there Vanessa. You do something different with your hair today? It looks nice.”
“You’re sweet.” She glances at Wash, she can’t look at the wreck of York’s torso. It’s hard to see much of it anyway with the medics rushing around. “What happened?”
“Felix.” It’s all Wash has to say.
“York’s spine has been damaged in several places.” Delta’s half speaking to her and half to Grey, who’s on York’s other side, checking his vitals. Kimball doesn’t have to do the same to know that they’re bad and not getting any better. “Several major organs have sustained severe lacerations, and he is losing blood rapidly.”
“Grey, what can you do for him? Is there anything...” Kimball sees the grim look and can’t finish the question.
“I’m doing everything I can, general.” But even as she says it, one of the monitors they’ve hooked York up to starts beeping in a way that can’t mean anything good. Grey orders medics about, calling for transfusions, getting equipment passed her way, but the beeping doesn’t stop.
A hand bumps Kimball’s arm and she looks down at York as he takes a wheezy, rattling breath. “Vanessa…”
Her name has never sounded more like goodbye. She shuts her eyes to try to stop them burning and sucks in a long slow breath through her nose.
“Wash, I need you to take Delta,” she says, voice as even as she can get him. “Put him in your storage unit. Now.”
“Kimball--”
“General, I would be much more helpful--”
“That’s an order, Washington.” She opens her eyes and finds York looking at her, still smiling, a tear rolling from the corner of his eye.
“Acknowledged.” Delta’s hologram flickers out for a moment and York shivers.
His hand clumsily bumps at Kimball’s arm until she clutches it with both of her own and leans in to press their foreheads together. “Thank you, Vanessa,” he says, voice barely more than a whisper. “For everything. Take… take care of Delta for me, will you?”
“I will. I promise.” She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth and feels him weakly try to return it as Grey gets word that the OR is finally ready somewhere a few feet to her left.
Kimball stumbles as she steps back and is unspeakably grateful when Wash steadies her without a word. They watch half a dozen medics wheel York away.
He lasts about ten minutes after that. Grey does everything she can, but there’s nothing stopping the inevitable. York had joked a few months back that he was long past his expiration date. It takes all she has for Kimball to push the thought away as soon as it arises so she doesn’t laugh until she cries. Really, it wouldn’t take long.
She manages to keep it together until she’s back in her office, Epsilon silent as a stone in her head, Delta in the storage unit Wash had pressed into her hands after they wheeled York away to the morgue.
“Kimball,” Epsilon starts. He breaks the silence and she sucks in a breath to not crumble with it.
“I can’t.” Her words are clipped, quick and bitten off. If she starts talking, if she lets the floodgates open, she doesn’t think she’ll get them closed again.
If it had just been one, she thinks hating herself for it, she might have been able to stand it. At least the other would be there to keep her grounded, to pull her back. But both of them. It’s too much. She can’t go near that edge or she’ll start falling and never stop.
Leaning back in her chair, she tips her chip up, as if that will stop the tears flowing. Deep breaths. She’s lost people before, this is nothing new. Good soldiers are lost all the time and she’s carried on. This can’t be different. This can’t take her down.
If Kimball’s honest with herself, she’s never been good at compartmentalizing. Everything bleeds together. But she does her damndest to force the grief back behind a wall. Better to bury herself in work. There’s always more to do, another report to read, another mission proposal to sign off on. She sends Wash and Tucker away when they approach, each offering to take a bit of the work. They want to help, but that’s the last thing she needs.
Epsilon doesn’t press. Not about that anyway. He does give her nudges now and then, to eat, to sleep, to go for a run when she’s been stuck behind her desk for ten hours. It’s helpful, far better than the pitiful looks she attracts anytime she nears the infirmary.
As for Delta, he plugs himself into the central computer system. “It is the best place for me to fully utilize my abilities. I have always found running numbers comforting.”
Kimball can’t begrudge him that, so she simply nods. “Don’t be afraid to come to me if there’s anything you need. You know where my office is.”
Delta proves, in less than a day, that he does in fact know exactly where her office is. Everything is wired together, the central information terminal a few buildings away has a direct line to Kimball’s office that Delta wastes no time accessing. There’s too much information he’s managing for him to project himself, but he sends her messages frequently. Usually it’s small notes on reports she’s working on or updates about ongoing missions, but every now and then, her screen will ping and Kimball will look up to find a simple message looking back at her.
Delta: <3
The first time, it makes her stop short until Epsilon gives her a slight nudge. It’s impulse more than anything else that makes her return the message in kind. Really, she knows it’s silly, which means Delta must realize it as well, but… for the briefest moment, a faint hint of warmth curls in her chest.
AI aren’t meant to take care of their hosts. From what Kimball as seen and heard, it’s supposed to be the other way around. The human host is meant to teach and nurture and she nearly sends Epsilon off to Tucker a dozen times because she’s in no shape to do either. She tries to approach the subject a few time, but in every instance, Epsilon redirects her, reminding her that she hasn’t eaten yet or calling her attention to something silly Caboose did, usually with a picture courtesy of Tucker.
So the guilt builds.
Delta keeps up with his hearts and Epsilon gives his nudges and she doesn’t let herself fall over that cliff. Not until Dr. Grey is sitting in front of her desk, a datapad in her hand and sad, but stern expression on her face.
“General Kimball, I hope I’m not disturbing you, but you haven’t been responding to my messages.”
Kimball blinks at her, the confusion in her head probably evident on her face. “I wasn’t aware you sent any. I didn’t see…”
There’s a surge of guilt from Epsilon and she sighs. Well, that explains it. If Epsilon didn’t do it, Delta almost certainly did and she knows the two of them talk, usually about her. For the most part, she ignores it. They’re worried and… honestly, she can’t really hold that against them. She’s worried about the both of them as well.
She’s talked to Epsilon a bit about Carolina, but most of those talks aren’t long and don’t get them much of anywhere. And since York… talking about either of them hurts too much, pushes Kimball back to that cliff’s edge. And she cannot, will not be pushed over.
So she takes a breath and looks Grey straight on. “What did you need to talk about?”
“We need to decide what to do with York’s remains.” She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t hold back. In a way, Kimball appreciates that. Grey doesn’t pull her punches when they need to land.
“Of course,” Kimball says, running on impulse. “I… I don’t know if he had anything he wanted done…”
Her computer pings. Delta’s always listening, so it’s not much of a surprise. She holds up a hand and quickly checks the message. It’s plain and simple.
York wanted to be cremated and laid to rest near Carolina if at all possible. And there’s an audio recording attached to the message.
There’s a lump in Kimball’s throat that she tries to swallow. She relays the information to Grey, who nods and makes a quick note on her datapad. “I’ll get it taken care of. Thank you for your time, general.”
Grey gives a little nod and then she’s gone. There are a million other things for her to be doing, so Kimball can’t blame her for that. But now there’s a wound that’s gaping open that she’s been trying to hold closed. Her eyes burn so Kimball takes a shaking breath, hands poised over her keyboard, but she can’t make them move.
Another breath. She can’t break. Not now. There’s still work to be done, so much she needs to focus on. But… but she can’t.
She presses a hand to her face and tries to measure out her breaths. Focus. Focus on work. Don’t think about him. About her. About them.
It’s okay, Kimball.
Epsilon’s voice cuts through her thoughts and she lets out a noise that she won’t call a sob. Her other hand comes to her face and she leans forward over her desk. “I… I can’t do this, Epsilon. Church. I-I can’t. I have to get back to work.”
“I have cancelled your meetings for the rest of the day,” Delta’s voice says. She looks up to find his hologram a moment later. “I have also… decided to take a break from my own duties as well. I must apologize.”
“No Delta. It’s alright, y-you can take a break if you need one,” Kimball says, guilt tugging at her. She should have offered him one. She thought it was helping to let him distract himself. She should have known--
“That is not what I am apologizing for.” His hologram flickers and reappears closer, just beside her hand. “I should have done this sooner. We have not been fulfilling our duties as your new partners.”
Kimball can’t do much more than blink at him. If she opens her mouth, she has no idea what’s going to come out. There’s a faint noise from the corner where she’s left her helmet and a slight tingle in the back of her head as Epsilon projects himself as well. “Yeah… we kinda dropped the ball. Sorta thought… y’know just letting you work and not think about them was helping, but uh… yeah in retrospect that was probably pretty fucking dumb.”
“Your emotional wellbeing is very important to us. And forcing yourself to act as though nothing is wrong it not healthy.”
“I know.” And she does. But that doesn’t mean she can stop. Leaning forward, she presses her face into her hands and takes a few breaths, trying to stop her shoulders shaking. “But… I can’t think about them. Not now. The war--”
“Can wait one fucking night,” Epsilon says a little sharply. But the way he shifts in her head, she knows the anger isn’t at her. His voice is softer when he speaks again. “If you keep going like this, you’re gonna burn out. Just take a break, just for the night. We’ve got something we wanna show you anyway.”
There’s a faint blinking from the computer screen and she lifts her head up. She hasn’t checked the audio file yet. “What is it?”
Kimball knows York and Carolina both left behind messages to be watched after their deaths, she’s made a few of them herself, she expects quite a lot of people on Chorus have. She’s not ready to hear one from either of them yet though, so she hesitates.
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Epsilon says, quick enough for her to be sure that he knows exactly what she’s thinking. “Delta, hit play.”
“Acknowledged.”
The first thing she hears is laughter that makes something in her chest clench tight. She doesn’t want to hear this, she can’t. It’s too much. Her eyes burn.
“Just for the record, this is all Carolina’s idea,” York’s voice says, bright and cheerful and alive.
Carolina laughs. There’s no video, but she sounds close, and Kimball can picture her, head tossed back as the laughter bursts out of her. “You’re the one who noticed the song fit. Start playing.”
There’s a soft strum of a guitar and Kimball presses a hand to her mouth. She had seen York mess around with the old instrument a dozen times after he had come back with it after a scouting mission. He… honestly wasn’t the best musician, but he knew a few songs well enough and always tried to talk anyone who was nearby into singing along.
They both breathe in on the recording and start singing. “ Hey there Vanessa… ”
Tears start rolling down Kimball’s face and she doesn’t bother trying to stop them as a surprised laugh slips from her. Carolina’s a little off key and York produces a few sour notes, but their voices wrap around each other perfectly and Kimball closes her eyes to see them in her head. She cries through the recording and when she feels a warm wave pulse from the back of her neck, she leans into it.
“Delta, can you play it again? Just one more time.”
“Of course.” The laughter starts again and Kimball’s shoulders shake.
“Thank you. Both of you.” They don’t have to respond, but she feels Epsilon shift in her head, curling around her like a hug.
It still hurts, it probably always will, but at least Kimball doesn’t have to go it alone.