Chapter Text
A helmet clatters to the cold floor.
“Do you know what that did to me? The day you called us a ‘problem’?”
Oh, he has no idea, because he has no regard for how other people feel.
“Do you fucking understand what it did to Caboose? Do you get it?”
Church loathes these conversations. They lead to a screaming match every time, it’s pointless. He came back, didn’t he? Isn’t that what matters?
“That was literally years ago, Tucker—“
“That’s not the point! Shut the fuck up and listen!”
It’s mere days after Church and Carolina came back. They’re in Tucker’s shared space with Wash in their quarters. It’s late at night, too late to be yelling at each other. Wash told Church Tucker missed him and he didn’t believe it. How could he? Tucker’s still livid, and nobody really anticipated that, especially Church. It was fucking infuriating for Tucker, watching that stupid hologram appear like everyone owed him something just for his simple existence. Which, to be fair, that’s undoubtedly and wholly Leonard Church. Or Epsilon— depends on who’s referring to him.
It’s Church to Tucker.
And right now, Church feels like a trapped animal. Carolina is nowhere in sight; she’s catching up with Wash and, oddly, Grif. The only helmet Church can jump to is Tucker’s, he’s left with absolutely no escape and he feels like his nonexistent head’s about to fucking collapse on itself over this conversation.
“All of it— it fucking sucked, Church! You have no fucking idea how much Caboose adores your stupid ass! Do you know the shit I had to do for him while you were gone? Even Wash! What the fuck, Church— what the fuck is happening?” Tucker’s running his hands through his hair, gripping like he’s attempting to fabricate a sense of control.
“That day you called us a problem— Do you even remember that?”
He does. Very vividly. But Church doesn’t wanna fucking admit it, because he’s an asshole with insecurity and abandonment issues.
“I say a lot of shit to you guys, Tucker, of course no-“
“You’re a fucking liar.”
“Excuse me?”
“I was the first to walk out, and Caboose the last! The day you fucking chose to kill some old dude with a chick just like Tex over us—“
Church’s hologram flickers. “ Hey! She has nothing to do with this shit, Carolina’s decisions were her own, asshole!”
“Shut up! She’s cool now, yeah, whatever, but back then? Dude, what the fuck. And you left with her! Again! And what’s worse is the fact that I give a shit about her, now, too! You guys just fucking walked out, what the fuck did you think was gonna happen? The whole city deciding to hold a parade in your name? No, fuckface!” He groans in agitation, gripping his curls harder. His helmet was removed an hour ago in preparation for this talk, hoping to make a stronger point.
“Oh my god, why the hell do you care? I apologized! And I came back! What the fuck else do you want from me?”
“I want you to mean it! You’ve left us twice now! What the fuck does an apology do if you’re just gonna fucking leave us behind again?”
Church can’t stop the snarl that slips, hologram flickering quicker. “I got news for you, asshole— I’m not responsible for you guys! Do you think I’m just here to babysit?”
And it hurts— it hurts so fucking much to hear that.
Tucker feels his shoulders drop, his mouth half open. For once, he has literally no idea how to reply, because what the fuck, that was so shitty.
“…You don’t get it, do you?”
He does, he’s just not ready to accept it.
“We aren’t mad at you because we expect you to babysit us, we’re mad because we give a shit about you. It’s the same if I walked out! Or Caboose! Hell, even Wash, now! I don’t know why the fuck I suddenly give a shit about any of you people— Simmons, Grif, fucking Donut— but I do, and that means you, too, jackass! Do you just not fucking get that, yet? Or are you still stuck in your own fucking world?”
See, it’s complicated. Church knows damn well he loves these people, but he’s physically incapable of saying so. It’s like a baseball gets caught in his throat every time he even thinks about it, and it’s even worse when it’s specifically Blue Team.
Blue Team.
Church’s relationships with everyone are all unique. Adores Donut by default, very little interactions with Simmons, surprisingly well aquainted with Grif, a love-hate relationship with Sarge, and a somewhat bitter connection with Lopez. And Carolina? Well, she’s like a big sister. But Blue Team—
Caboose is important to him, he knows this. He literally can’t pretend like he’s not. Like an annoying little brother that you can’t help but have a soft spot for because he looks up to you that much.
And Tucker. He’s… complicated. Very complicated. The affection (that’s a horrible word to use because the man is too prickly to really offer something like that, but that’s as close as we can get here) he holds for Caboose is not the same affection he holds for Tucker. It’s… deeper. More layers.
But it’s very clear that doesn’t matter anymore, because it’s more than obvious there’s something going on between Tucker and Wash.
Whatever, he doesn’t care. They’re in the middle of war right now— why would he care??
Right?
Church inhales deeply, trying to quiet his own holographic brain before the others grow to be too much.
But Tucker’s next choice of words just about guts Church.
“…Why do you make it so hard for us to care about you?”
The room’s quiet after that. The lighting is still dim from the late hours, leaving the two in a tense as fuck darkness. And honestly, Church can’t answer that. Using Tex is a shitty excuse, and he knows this, but it’s unfortunately partially ( partially) true. She makes up for about 50% of his trust issues, but the other 50%?
Probably a mixture between realizing he’s just a memory of someone else and the fact that he’s the memory of someone else who’s shitty. But that’s not great either, because either way, Church is blaming somebody else for his garbage behavior (technically). If this were five years ago, Church would’ve made excuses with no remorse, but it’s… different now.
Very different.
After spending so much time with Carolina, he’s had a lot of time to think. She means the world to him, and travelling with someone who’s on the same emotional level as you are is… refreshing, but also eye-opening. They talked a lot on their travels between marks and missions.
Church lets his hands come up to rest on his waist. He’s been quiet for several seconds and it’s beginning to stress Tucker out, very visibly. Church casts his helmet down, looking at his armored feet.
“…Because I’m scared of what will happen if I let myself not hate you people.”
Tucker’s eyes widen like a fool.
“Happy now? I don’t know what the fuck else you want from me. I’m trying— I am, but fuck. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, Tucker. I’m a fucking super computer and I’ve had very little time to grasp that— there’s always something fucking happening, and if it’s anything related to how I feel, I can’t process fast enough. I just can’t, Tucker. I’m not- I don’t… fuck! It’s not just me in my head anymore!”
Tucker’s tense, because this is the most he’s ever been able to get out of Church. It’s a rule. Unspoken, but a rule; neither bring up serious conversations, and neither open up when it does happen.
But as said before, it’s different now.
Tucker’s grown a lot, too. Being forced to step up as a leader will do that to ya. He’s still obnoxious, overconfident, loud and occasionally naive. But there’s a lot that he has going for him, now. Yes, he’s still all of those things, but now? Now, he’s also optimistic, an opportunist, determined, and physically capable.
Wash once told him he could’ve been a Freelancer, late at night when Tucker was doubting his ability as a leader, but we all know how that would actually pan out.
Both of them have grown so fucking much, and yet it’s still hard to communicate. For Church, it’s alarming, because it’s very clear Tucker’s far more attune with his emotions (which is saying something, because Tucker has always been the emotional fool of this entire group). And to see his best friend that emotionally mature all of a sudden is… jarring.
Tucker feels his shoulders aching with tension. He sighs, heavy and empty at the same time. He leans back, shoulder blades touching the wall before he lets his unarmored body slide to the floor, knees bent up and hands in his lap. The glow of Church’s hologram is faint as he tries to figure out what the fuck he’s supposed to say at this point.
Luckily, Tucker’s a people person, and not in the way Felix is.
“You know, I don’t really know what’s wrong with me these days. It’s kinda weird, dude. It feels like just last week we were yelling at a bunch of nameless assholes in a dirt canyon. Then suddenly we’re fighting aliens and freelancers. And now a war on somebody else’s planet?” He scoffs, but dry of his usual warmth. “When did shit start to matter?”
The day Tucker realized red and blue are the same, but he can’t see that yet.
“…I dunno. It’s weird for me too. One day I’m yelling at you for shoving Caboose into the freezer and the next I’m just some old asshole’s memories.” Church’s holographic body walks over, taking a perch atop Tucker’s knee.
“A lot’s changed since you’ve been gone, y’know? It’s weird.”
“Yeah? Like what?” It’s an olive branch that Church is willing to take.
“For starters, we have a twelve foot robot that replaced you-“
“ Fuck you guys for that one.”
“-and Grif and Simmons are basically a thing. Fucking finally. God I got so tired of listening to Simmons bitch. I think it was after a mission went shitty that Grif was a part of.”
Church snorts in amusement. “God it took them, what, ten years? Jesus.”
“Good for them, though. Not like anything’s changed, they’ve basically been married for a decade.” Tucker feels himself smile, because truly, he is happy for them. Oddly, he and Grif are relatively good friends, so it’s… nice to see.
“What else is different?”
“Caboose. He’s still a fucking idiot, but I feel like he’s… I dunno, grown up? Like, if something really fucking bad happens, I feel like he’s gonna be the first to accept it, and not just because he’s an idiot, but because he knows how to… heal? I guess? Out of all of us, he forgives the easiest.”
“Can’t fucking relate.”
That warmth in Tucker is gone once more, because the sting of Felix’s betrayal is still rampant. “…Yeah. Me neither.”
Church takes a “seat” on Tucker’s kneecap. “And Sarge? Donut? What’re those two fools doing?”
“Sarge is fucking delusional, dude. Last night, Grif told me he’s been absolutely spiraling without ‘a blue to blame everything on’. He’s still in Bloodgulch, apparently. Which would explain why my equipment is always fucking faulty. And he fucking put raisins in my MREs this morning, which is fucking morbid and malicious.”
Church actually finds himself snickering for the first time since his return.
“Donut’s kinda killing it, though. Dude’s a bit of badass, which is fucking weird to say outloud.”
“I’ve always kinda liked that guy. He’s not bad.”
“Nah, he’s not, actually. Still annoying as fuck though.”
“Oh yeah, definitely.”
“…What about you and Carolina? What’s changed?”
What hasn’t?? Carolina is so much more than she used to be, and so is Church. All for the better, even.
Church lets out a sigh of his own. “All kinds of shit, actually. Carolina’s… different. Almost wiser? I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like she took a weekend trip with Luke Skywalker for his training and trained with him, because she’s a hell of a lot less brash and wild.”
Tucker’s jaw almost hits the floor, because he hasn’t heard Church make any sort of nerd reference in years. Probably not since he found out he’s an AI.
Which, technically, wasn’t this Church when that happened, but hell, he remembers it.
“Did you just—“
“Shut the fuck up and let me answer your question, dipshit.” He crosses his arms, and Tucker snaps his mouth shut as requested.
“She’s still meaner and tougher than hell, but she’s softened up a little. She’s not so mean, once you’ve been in her head for months. She’s got a fuck ton of baggage, but a fuck ton of mercy to give, too.”
“Carolina? And mercy? I dunno about that one, dude.”
“Maybe if you weren’t such a little bitch all the time, she wouldn’t have to threaten to shoot your fucking fingers off.”
That grin is back, almost blinding. If Church still had a body, he’d feel his chest tighten, because he knows that grin isn’t for him.
Not anymore.
He’s gained so much after leaving with Carolina, but lost just as much. And maybe he shouldn’t assume— maybe Wash is nothing more than a close friend for Tucker. But Church wouldn’t be caught dead asking. He has no intention of showing how much he desperately wants to know, because why would it matter? They’re in the middle of a war, their lives could be gone in an instant and that’s what they should focus on.
And he’s a hologram. That’s not exactly something to woo babes with, is it?
But on the flip side, that’s so not fair, because at some point, Tucker’s pretty sure he loved this man. He doesn’t know how, or why, because it’s not as obvious as Simmons and Grif. They make plenty of sense, but these two?
Church may be a super computer, but the math isn’t mathing for him, y’all.
But Church decides to take a risk. It’s late, they’re both exhausted, but this is the closest they’ve gotten to a normal fucking conversation in a long time.
“…and Wash? Does he, uhh… still have a pole up his ass?”
The smile that Tucker replied with was proof enough, despite the obvious shithead in his brown eyes.
He’s smitten, and that’s almost too painful to really even think about for Church right now.
“Oh, definitely. He’s a fucking dickhead sometimes, but he means well. He’s changed a lot, too, actually. Kinda like Carolina. He’s softening a little, and I blame that entirely on Caboose. He taught Simmons how to fuckin’ knife-fight, too. He’s not bad, actually. Still kinda awkward and clumsy, but he holds his own.” The back of his head leans back and touches the wall as he closes his eyes.
“Wash cares about us. It’s hard for him sometimes, because of the team he used to have. He never talks about them, but I can tell it still fucks with him sometimes.”
Church can’t help but scoff at that. “Oh please, you guys are nothing like their old team. He and Carolina have nothing to fucking worry about.”
Tucker opens an eye at that. “Whaddya mean by ‘you guys’? You’re still a rag tag idiot like the rest of us, jackass.” He’s still smiling, so fondly at this point it should be gross.
But it’s not.
“Oh fuck that. I run the suit of the biggest badass that’s ever been, I’m not one of you fools. You guys are astronomically incomparable to how fucking awesome I am right now.”
“ Whatever, you started all of this shit to begin with and you know it.”
“Oh did not, I just wanted to be left alone!”
“You mean you wanted to die.”
“Exactly! Left alone!! And then Caboose shows up like god and then I’m yanked right out of my grave.”
“Oh nooooo, we saved you from a lonely and forgettable death, how fucking horrible and inconsiderate of us.” Tucker rolls his eyes so hard they hit the fucking moon.
“ Hey. Nothing about that shit was forgettable, watch it.”
And he’s right. He’s so fucking right.
Tucker’s features soften to something more somber, and that did not suit him. “…no. No, it wasn’t.”
“Don’t go there-“
“Why the hell not?”
“Just don’t-“
“You act like it’s so bad we wanted to see you again. You knew your time wasn’t up— but you just… gave up. Why?”
Church feels that frustration build up again, because they were so close to finally being done with this kind of topic. “What the fuck else was I supposed to do? I finally moved on from my problems. I found peace. I had no way of getting out myself, so I just… I dunno-“
“Lived in a memory.”
“…it was a damn good one, at least.”
“And now?”
“What about ‘now’, asshole?”
“You wanna keep moving, right?”
It’s… a heavy question. Church was ready to pass, yes, but not because he was angry, or spiteful, or tired of living. Quite the opposite— he really did find peace for the first time. He just assumed that his time was finally up.
But it’s different now. He won’t admit it, and maybe not even to himself, but he loves these people.
And he loves Tucker.
“…yeah. I’ll keep moving until I can’t, I guess. There’s not a lot left of me, I’m not gonna lie— I’m not exactly a shiny new AI, Tucker. But I’ll make shit work. You guys are literally fucking chickens without their heads without me.”
Tucker smiles in return, warmth back in his chest.
“Yeah, we really are, dude.”