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“So what's your hang up with me?”

Locus doesn't jump. He never really has. His startle response results in hospitalizations. So he had to get a handle on it. Snipers are steady. Still as stone. The only indication that he heard it is how his helmet tilts in the direction of the intruder.

It was Agent Washington.

Of all these idiotic men, of course it would be him. The ex-Freelancer was one of the only competent souls in their group. True, the others had their moments. But the Agent was the biggest threat to the success of their plan.

Locus knew quite a bit about him. The Project wasn’t the best at covering their tracks. Personnel files, security footage, training reports…he’d dug every scrap of it up. Studied it endlessly. Felix mocked his research, calling it a waste of time.

Not to him.

To know your enemy is to know victory. Locus knew it wouldn’t go well if Washington wound up with Felix’s side of the conflict. He was too paranoid. Too wary of overt charm. He was far more likely to fall to a quiet, distant approach.

If he played this right, the mercenary would be able to go much further than his partner could. Beyond his wildest dreams, even. He'd have the man gladly accepting a dagger to the heart. So he made sure that the Freelancer would end up on his side of the planet.

Was his research more…thorough than necessary? Perhaps. Felix used the word ‘invasive.’

Locus glances up from his sights. He was a bit surprised Agent Washington had found his vantage point. Only a bit. “Pardon me?”

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are.” The man crouches next to him, making sure it was clear that he was staring Locus down.

He’s actually offended by that. Sort of. “Example?”

“How do you think I found you here?” Washington reaches over, flicking the side of his rifle. “Your glint. You’ve been tracking me since the day I got here. You avoid the others, but you’ll tolerate my presence far longer. You initiate conversations that aren’t relevant to the war. Small talk.”

“You’re upset that I’m being sociable?”

“I’m not upset.” Washington sits back, watching the Feds milling about below them. “I’m trying to figure you out. Also you're not being sociable. You know that.”

Locus doesn’t like being picked apart. “Elaborate?”

“Like I said. You’re clearly more invested in me than the others. There’s something you’re curious about. Why else would a hired gun bother being friendly with refugees?” He muses.

It was absolutely the correct choice to have Washington here. Felix had a silver tongue, but the Agent would have seen straight through him.

Locus, however…he operated on honesty. (Mostly…) His only lies were those of omission. “I find you more interesting than your comrades. Is that a problem?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Washington challenges him. “We both know that’s a piss poor answer. You know what I’m asking.”

Hm. “I’ve been trying to understand why you’re still with these troops.” Locus acknowledges. “How does a former Freelancer, one who was consistently in the top ten of the program, find these conditions acceptable?”

“Acceptable?” Washington parrots back, a soft snort accompanying it. “I’m doing my job.”

“You’re staying here on orders?” That wasn’t true. Locus knew it wasn’t.

“Not…exactly.” He shakes his head, looking towards the building the sim-troopers were staying in. “The Project ruined so many lives. I can’t go back and fix anything. I can’t change the fact that I did so much damage to them. What I can do is keep them out of harm's way. Try to make them more self-sufficient.”

Locus hums softly, mulling it over. “You don’t plan on staying with them forever.”

It was an observation. Not a question. Not an accusation. A simple statement of facts.

“...Probably not.”

There it is. That’s why he was pushing Blue team so hard. “Do they know?”

“You didn’t. If a stalker didn’t know, what makes you think they would?” Washington’s tone takes on a sharp edge.

“I’m not a-”

“Oh shut up.” He snaps. “I’ve caught you following me on five separate occasions. Seen what you’re searching in the databases. And that’s just when you slip up. I’m sure there’s plenty more I don’t know. So what’s your problem with me? Why are you digging through my military records?”

Ugh. Locus is getting irritated. “Am I not meant to do background checks on new recruits?”

“No. You’re a merc'. You do the Feds dirty work for a check. It’s not your responsibility to screen soldiers.” Washington doesn’t let him dodge the question. “And it’s just me . What about the others?”

“Their identities aren’t a government secret.” Locus huffs, trying to return to observing through his scope.

A steel and yellow gauntlet grips the sight firmly, pushing it down. “Stop avoiding the question. What are you looking for?”

“I’m not looking for anything. I’m studying a new soldier with a hidden past.” He would very much like to shoot the man.

“You think I’m a threat?”

“Yes.”

That does seem to surprise Washington a bit. “...It’s more than that though.”

“It is.”

The Freelancer sits with this for a moment, judging his best plan of attack probably. “There’s something about me that you can’t sus out.”

Locus nods, letting the Agent lead the questioning.

“...” 

The silence was fraying at his nerves. He had no clue why.  Locus was holding a stacked deck. Had been for years.

“You don't understand why I'm not in your position. Why I can't be bought. Is that it?”

There was always a trump card.

“Everyone can be bought.” Locus asserts.

He fully expected some holier-than-thou response. One full of righteous fury.

“Obviously.”

Oh…well then.

“But my price isn't monetary. At least not right now.” Washington shrugs simply. “Once I know they can live without me? Then my work will be done. Then we could potentially bargain.”

“They survived before you.” He knows it's a half-baked point that can easily be challenged.

“They only made it because they were being used for training purposes. They wouldn't have lasted a week without our external intervention.” The agent pointed out. “I'm not sure the others won't wipe out the rebel army by mistake.”

That was certainly the idea.

“Look, I'm not sure what it matters to you what I do with my life outside of the Project.” Washington sighs deeply, his head tipping skyward again.

“Wasted potential.” Shit.

“Rude.” The older man’s words are slightly more clipped. Guarded. Damn it, he'd pushed him too far with that comment. “It's only a waste if I deem it to be one. Not like I have to live up to some vision you have of me in your head.”

Well, he might as well go all the way. Considering Locus had already stepped in it. “And you're content with this…life of yours?”

“Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to woo me, Locus.” The Freelancer teased him. “Trying to get me to team up with you?”

“What if I was?”

That is what seems to offend Agent Washington. He leans away slightly.

“I just told you what my price was. It sure as shit isn't an employment opportunity.”

“You don't seem terribly happy with your current situation.” Locus observes. “As I said, your potential is nothing to these troops. They'll continue to take advantage of your skills, doing nothing to improve.”

“How rich.” Washington stands, body language tense. “A mercenary implying he wouldn't exploit me.”

“I-”

“Shut up.” He orders. “I'm not going to be your new toy. You know better than that. You've seen my files. If you ever want me to consider such a thing, you’d get further by quickly resolving this conflict. Rather than lining your pockets.”

Locus’ jaw clicks as he firmly shuts his mouth. He could certainly do that, it just wouldn't be what Washington thinks he's asking for.

Washington readies himself to leave. Before he ducks out, he turns back. “Also, if you're really so invested in my life, just talk to me. I'm not going to bite you. Beyond that, I'm not fond of a stranger circling me like a vulture. So let's get to know each other, hm?”

And just like that, he's alone.

A message comes through his private text feed.

Felix: you have a good first date?

Locus: Don't.

Felix: whaaat? i bet he's hot…for a guy in his forties.

Locus: Irrelevant.

Felix: chill out, can't blame me for wanting you to loosen up.

Locus: You have your own army to focus on.

Felix: ‘army’.

Locus: Check your ego before it gets you killed.

Felix: you can't tell me you still view these idiots as a potential threat.

Locus: If they can pull a trigger, they can shoot you.

Felix: uh huh.

Locus: Stop bothering me.

Felix: aww, but you know you love it.

Locus: Above being skinned alive, perhaps.

Felix: <3

Locus doesn't bother returning the gesture. He's actually surprised that Felix seemed to be encouraging him to pursue another man. He's been vocally…territorial before. Locus turns his scope towards the exit he knew Washington would have to use. Right on cue, the Freelancer emerges from the hidden passage. As Locus zooms in, he's met with a familiar sight.

A middle finger, clearly meant for him.

Gods he hoped this job was worth it.

For being severely out of practice, Agent Washington was still a half-decent fighter. The way he twists to avoid Locus looks clumsy. At first, that’s exactly what the mercenary thinks. Dumb luck, however, was an exceptionally rare thing.

Especially with a soldier that had been in the military for over twenty years.

There it is. The pattern. The way he plants his boots is solid. Then he intentionally over balances. Locus was being baited.

Hmph. Clever.

The merc' was now aware that Washington was playing with him. He couldn’t fully disguise his talent. So why keep up this facade? It would only get him killed. Locus severely doubted the man had more stamina than he did.

However…he wouldn’t put it past him. He refused to gain the tunnel vision indicative of his partner.

They spin ever closer, drawing into a structure with many levels and walkways. Perfect for a sniper.

Locus has the shot. He has it dozens of times. The corner of a visor. The softest kevlar that is only good against smaller firearms. The glimpse of the spine, the fifth vertebrae was hard to hit but he could have landed it.

The Agent intentionally picks that moment to dart from his cover. Sloppy…or is this another mind game?

“Why do you continue to help these people, Agent Washington?”

The man doesn’t respond to him directly. His voice is soft, focused on tracking the merc’s glimmering outline. While he’s not sure, it sounds like he says- “Where are you…?” He proceeds forward, the soles of his sabatons scraping across the flooring. Steady. Unhurried.

Infuriating.

Locus presses his back against a wall, taking a breath before lining up his shot. “You have nothing to gain from them. No reason to fight for them. And yet…here you stand, with your life on the line for them.”

He misses the subtle motion of Washington’s helm. “Is that so hard to understand?” The Agent wonders, a trace of amusement in his words.

Locus picks a point on the man’s helmet for his target. It wouldn’t kill him. Just knock him unconscious for a while. His cloaking melts away, for only a moment. He squeezes the trigger.

Washington bolts, diving out of sight. By the time he emerges, Locus has long since faded into the background.

This was moronic. The Freelancer was a living contradiction. So talented, yet so foolish when it came to his loyalties. A growl creeps into Locus’ voice. “You used to be so much more …”

His quarry cautiously breaks cover, the crunch of his steps the only sound for a few minutes. He’s scanning the room, just waiting for a glimpse of the mercenary.

The man in question felt anger bubbling in his chest. How dare he let his gifts go to waste like this. “You were once an enemy to these men. You were ruthless! You were a survivor!”

He doesn’t want to focus on the real reason for his anger. Doesn’t want to admit how he found some small part of the Agent relatable. How the man’s current choices present an obnoxious ‘what if?’.

Damn it all, he’s getting attached.

“I was a different person.” Washington states simply. Like it’s as natural as breathing.

“No, you were a soldier.” Locus snaps back. He needed to get a lid on these emotions. They were going to tank his accuracy.

Once more, he’s too distracted to see that the Agent has noticed his shimmer. “You say that like they’re two different things.”

He’s being purposely obtuse, Locus. You see Felix doing this all the time. Don’t fall for such obvious bait. He releases a harsh breath. “When a true soldier is told to kill, he kills. He does not question why, he does not mourn the fallen; he fulfills his role and moves on to the next…”

That damned teasing edge blooms in Washington’s retort. “Is that what you want to be? A true soldier?”

Livid, Locus drops his cloak, giving his position away. He snarls, taking aim at the man’s visor. “No…that is what I am !”

He takes the shot, an outraged hiss escaping him when the man ducks out of the way. He doesn’t let Washington get his sights up before vanishing once more.

“Damn it!” The Freelancer grumbles.

“I’m a professional , Agent Washington. I complete my-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you complete your mission at all cost.” His opponent mocks him. He does so as if Locus couldn’t easily blow his head off. If he could stop letting the ire get to him, he’d be done with this already. “You can say that as many times as you want, but I know what you really are. You’re a coward.”

Oh now that was rich. “Ridiculous…” Locus can’t stand this man’s current attitude. He had no right to call the mercenary that when he hid himself amongst the sim-troopers to avoid jail time.

It would seem Washington had more to say. “You keep trying to play yourself off as some sort of weapon. That you don’t care about anyone or anything.”

Shut up.

“But the fact that you’re trying so hard to understand me breaks your entire act! No matter how hard you may want to be, you’re not a machine, you’re a murderer.”

Shut up .

Washington slips out of cover, carefully backing towards one of the ramps. “But you hide behind the idea in your head, because you’re too afraid to take responsibility for what you’ve done.”

Shut up.

Locus hovers less than a foot away, breathing shallowly.

“You know, I used to be a real piece of shit. But at least I’m trying to do something about it.” Washington scoffs.

SHUT. UP.

The mercenary bleeds into view, slamming into the Agent’s shoulder. He’d been turning, something must have given his cover away a fraction too early. If he had his way, Locus would have been able to clock the back of his skull. Easy knock out.

But Washington is still awake, going for his knife. Flashes of training footage streaked through Locus’ mind. Seeing this Freelancer destroying an Insurgent with a similar blade. Like a violent dance. Without hesitating, he uses one of his massive hands to wrench his opponents arms above his head.

Locus swings a leg over Washington’s torso, using his weight to immobilize him. This was over. He uses his free arm, pressing the length of it into the Agent’s soft throat. It wasn’t as effective as using two hands. But the man was on the floor, so he could leverage his size to force submission.

There’s a sound he wasn’t anticipating. A wet, strained chuckle.

“H-hit a nerve?”

Locus sees red. He snarls like a feral beast and applies more pressure. “You have no idea who I am, Agent Washington. You will not win. You are smart. You know you’re going to waste with these idiots !”

Another laugh. He tries to speak, but the words can’t form.

Locus eases up, wanting to hear the man admit his defeat. He deserves to speak his mind.

“Y-you think I’m trying to win ?” Washington coughs.

“...I believe that’s the point of a fight.” The mercenary scowls.

“Just needed to get you away from your boyfriend long enough for him to get cocky.”

…What?

“H-he’s such a dumb ass. He’d have given everything away ages ago if not for you.” Washington’s eyes may be hidden behind his visor, but it’s clear he’s staring Locus down. “Knew you couldn’t resist a chance to see me in action…one on one. So I gave you your wish.”

He can hear the grin in Washington’s voice.

“I don’t mind dying if it completes my mission .”

“Damn it all!” Locus can’t believe he fell for it. He knew it was a trap! He returns to the task of forcing the Agent to pass out. He was playing stupid. He’d clocked Felix as the weak link so quickly. Hell, maybe one of his subordinates had informed him of the man’s shortcomings. Doesn’t matter.

He should just shoot him.

It would be the best in the long run.

He wouldn’t be a threat anymore.

It would be easy .

And yet…

It takes twenty seconds for Agent Washington to pass out. If he kept it up for another ten minutes, he’d be a distant memory. Another notch on the mercenaries belt…but he sits back, glaring at the man who captured his attention since his ship crashed.

His radio crackles to life. It’s one of his favored underlings.

“Locus, everyone at the capital knows…What do we do?”

Son of a bitch.

He gets to his feet, drawing his shoulders back as he stares at the unconscious man. His words are stilted. Halting.

“...Follow…protocol…” He orders. He allows himself one last look at the steel and yellow armor. He would not allow his ego to get in the way of sense. Not one moment longer. Locus quickly goes to retrieve his partner, knowing he’d get himself killed if he didn’t intervene.

It wouldn’t be his last encounter with Agent Washington. He would learn from this. The Freelancer would not escape him next time.

Not a chance.

When Felix learns that Locus had allowed Washington to live, he’d gone ballistic. 

“You had him on the ground! He was out you fucking dumb ass! It’d take two seconds to jam a knife into his throat!” His partner paces when he’s angry. Always had, always would. “But nooo, you’re so obsessed you couldn’t even do one little thing to make our lives easier!”

“I am not obsessed.” Locus keeps his focus on the mirror before him, dabbing at a bloody scrape under his chin.

“Oh yeah. Totally not. You’re just doing your job, right? ” Felix gives a mirthless cackle. He’s so small when he’s not in his armor. How had Siris put it? Something about a murderous pipe cleaner.

“Our employer had no interest in killing the Freelancers. He would find it more useful if they were alive.” Locus deflects, pulling his hair back into a neat twist that fits comfortably under his helmet.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Sam!”

Locus rounds on Felix, hand darting out to squeeze his jaw. “Don’t call me that.”

The man squirms uselessly in his grip, raking his fingernails over his forearm. Something he can’t quite place flickers through Felix’s eyes. “Fine, let go!” He manages to hiss out.

The taller of the two increases the pressure for a moment before releasing his partner.

“Point still stands. You’re acting like you’re smitten with the bastard.” Felix rubs at his chin, adjusting until the joint clicks back into place.

“I am not-”

“Stop.” Felix snaps. “I know you don’t see it because you’re emotionally constipated-”

He had no room to talk.

“But I can read you like a book. I don’t know if it’s some level of possessiveness, or actual interest, but you’re acting like you did with me. Some part of you is mad because you can’t have him.”

“ Felix- ”

“You let that get in the way of our mission. He played your ass like a fiddle.”

“ You were the one that allowed himself to be caught on camera.” Locus retorts, pulling his helm on. He relishes in the anonymity it grants him. “I was following protocol.”

“Bull fucking shit.” Felix fires right back. “You didn’t want to kill him because you’ve got some weird ass crush on a washed up old man.”

“If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to break your arm.” Locus warns him.

“Yeah, sure you will.” The man waves his hand dismissively. “What I’m trying to get at is you need to get over Wash. He’s never gonna pick you. He’s not remotely interested. He never will be. So get your head out of your ass and kill him the first chance you get. I’m the only one you’ll ever need. Remember?”

“...Fine.”

A smirk splits Felix’s face like a honey coated blade. Danger lurking below the thin veneer of sweetness. “That’s my boy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sure, babe.”

“Nor that.”

Felix was right, of course. Locus would never admit it, but he did have some sort of feelings towards the Freelancer. He certainly wouldn’t call it a crush. A fixation, perhaps. It doesn’t matter. He would have certainly preferred it if Washington would have joined them. It would have helped balance the dynamic between himself and Felix.

Still, he had a job to do. 

No matter how aggravating his cohort was, Locus needed him…

Truly, he did.

Perhaps he should have foreseen this possibility.

It had been going too smoothly. The universe, in Locus’ experience, had a way of re-balancing itself at the least convenient times.

So he shouldn’t have been too shocked at his inevitable reunion with Agent Washington.

He’d been focused on his rifle, deftly clicking a new magazine into place. He hears the soft buzz that indicates his radio is about to burst to life.

“Tower 2 here.” One of the men he’d personally hired. “We’re picking up enemy aircraft on our radar. Looks like they’re staying out of range.”

Were they now? “Hold position. By the time reinforcements arrive-” Locus begins to advise Tower 2 as he sweeps over the battlefield with his scope. They needed to wrap this one up. “-there’ll be no one left for them to save.” He says with a note of finality. He spies a pair of Republic soldiers taking shelter behind a boulder. One with maroon stripes, the other with aqua. From what he knew, they were directly under Captain’s Simmons and Tucker.

“You really should’ve killed me when you had the chance, Locus.”

The hair raises on the back of his neck. Bastard. He knew better than this.

“Who’s that?” Tower 2 has every right to be baffled. But it could wait.

“I know you can hear me.” Of course he could. Locus could hear that smug grin too. The one that had whispered in the back of his mind since their last encounter. “I made sure this was broadcasting on all open channels.”

Locus grumbles, stalking over to the edge of his vantage point. He was casting a wide net. Aiming for confusion? “Reckless behavior, even for you.” He finally responds.

A soft chuckle. “Guess I’m just full of disappointments.”

True.

“You know? I’ve been thinking about the last time we met. The questions you asked me.”

Absolutely not. “We’re past the point of talk, Agent Washington. Goodbye.” He’s about to turn his attention back to the foot soldiers when the Freelancer catches his attention again.

“I’m at the southwest side of the crash site.”

Locus doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He scopes in, surveying the location. A dome of steel and yellow breaks into his sight line.

“You still don’t feel like talking?”

He squeezes the trigger the second he knows it’d severely injure the man. “No.”

He knew something was wrong the moment his round hits home. The helmet didn’t move right. Son of a-

A hail of bullets start bearing down on him. Two gunners by the sound of it. Locus doesn’t have time to drop out of their lines. He catches one in his shoulder, dropping his rifle and cloak. The mercenary is forced to leave it to get into cover.

He knew better! He can’t keep falling for this man’s bait. Felix was never going to let him live this down. He waits for a break in the firing to retrieve his gun. Fury simmers in his chest as he descends from his roost, seeking out his field commanders. 

Locus is even more enraged when the idiots manage to get an honest to gods smokescreen going.

There they are. Locus approaches his colleagues. “Form a perimeter, and hold the line.” He orders.

His visor can’t pick anything out in this thick fog.

“God damn it, I can’t see shit.” One of the pirates laments.

Locus couldn’t berate him for that. It was very true. He catches the revving of an engine, managing to sidestep a Rocket Hog and another, standard issue vehicle in its wake.

The sim-trooper he knew as Sarge hooped and hollered as they plowed through Locus’ men.

“Life finds a way!!”

Damn them. Damn every last one.

“They broke through the line, sir!”

Oh, really? He hadn’t noticed.

“Should we follow?” One of his troopers asks.

Locus has to take a moment to steady himself so he doesn’t lash out at the soldier. “...No. Their reinforcements will be waiting. Stand down.”

There’s that radio buzz again. A voice he really wasn’t keen on listening to.

“All that time we were with the Feds, I knew you were watching me, making sure I wasn’t a threat.” Washington explains, the sound of tires and whipping wind rushing around him. “Which was why I took the time to watch you.”

Locus was well aware the Agent had been keeping him in his sights. In an ideal world, the man would have recognized he belonged on their side, but alas.

“You know, you might see our similarities, Locus.”

He’d be blind not to.

“But you still can’t see that between the two of us? I’m the soldier, and you’re just a killer.” Agent Washington doesn’t waste any time in hanging up.

Locus’ comm's are oppressively silent. He needs to get away from the others before he does something rash. His anger wasn’t anyone else’s business. His voice is laced with aggravation as he turns to a pirate. “I need a vehicle.”

A drive would be good for him.

Locus was intentionally avoiding another encounter with Washington. Every single time, the Freelancer would get the better of him in the most simplistic ways. It was unacceptable.

Price had picked up on this quickly. His sharp eyes always studying the mercenary.

“If I may have a word, Locus?” The Counselor has his hands laced behind his back, stance loose.

“...What.” It had been a long day. Felix had been starting arguments the entire mission and Locus just wanted to sleep.

“My apologies for the intrusion, but I had a few questions for you.” His smile is a hollow thing, devoid of meaning. “I promise it will be quick.”

Locus rolls his eyes behind his visor. He motions for the man to continue.

“From what I’ve noticed, you’ve been rather…distracted lately.” Price pulls out a small data pad. It was where he kept his notes. “Especially when a particular soldier is in the fray.”

Locus turns to leave, but the Counselor shakes his head.

“If you’re not interested in speaking about him, I can avoid the topic.” His voice is even, likely trying to be soothing. However, it had the opposite effect. It sets Locus’ teeth on edge. “I will remind you that I’m not here to judge you. Something tells me you need to discuss this with someone besides your partner.”

It was never just a ‘discussion’ with Felix. The longer this mission dragged on, the more he seemed to hate Washington. He’d take any chance to berate the Freelancer. To remind Locus of how much the man would despise him.

…Maybe he did need an outside perspective. But he really doesn’t want to talk about this, regardless of who was listening.

“Do you believe your interest in Agent Washington could be considered general curiosity?”

Damn it all, fine. “...No.”

“How would you describe it?” Price continues to take notes casually. “Admiration? Romantic? Sexual?”

“No.” Locus growls, folding his arms. “I just want to understand his mindset so I can kill him.”

A lie, but only partially.

“Is that so?” The Counselor surely doesn’t believe him. “Is there anything I can do to further that goal?”

…Well, actually…

It starts with Locus asking about general weaknesses. He knew that Washington had a strong aversion to hosting AI. His severe paranoia was obvious. Finding out he was autistic wasn’t much of a shock. Insomnia, of course.

Then things take a turn when Price decides to mention the Meta.

“What was that?” Locus butts in.

“Hm? You mean his relationship?” The Counselor wonders.

“Relationship. He was with the Meta?” The mercenary prompts. Why was he asking this? It doesn’t matter.

“Technically, it was Agent Maine he was dating.” Price nods, going through his data pad. “Forgive me, I’m used to calling him the Meta. They began seeing each other a few months after they met. They excelled when sent on missions together. I wonder if you remind Washington of Maine.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you both have a very similar stature. Even your mannerisms are alike. You’re both active camouflage users. Both of you are exceptionally strong. A tendency towards silence…” There’s a cold chuckle. “Perhaps he felt as though he’d seen a ghost when you first met.”

Locus doesn’t like that.

“But I can’t say anything for certain. He would never let me speak to him again.” Price hums, tapping his notes idly. “Shame that. He was always the most interesting to pick apart.”

There’s a low anger that blooms in Locus at that…no. No it’s not anger. It’s protectiveness.

Absolutely not. He's not going to allow it to continue. He pulls himself together, straightening. “No more questions.”

Price bows his head. “Of course, Locus.” His eyes glint like a knife. “I hope our chat helps you in some way. My door is always open to you.”

This subject would not be discussed again. Not a chance.

The mercenary returns to his room, locking it behind him. He leans against the cool metal, trying to center himself again. He needs to distance himself from this feeling. He had work to do. Then he could explore this.

After he killed Washington.

Damn.

It.

All.

They’d turned the tide. They were supposed to be three steps ahead! Felix had sworn they’d pull this off with no issue.

And yet…

“No way…” His partner stills, his limbs going slack.

It doesn’t take more than a moment to see what caught his attention. Right there, in the middle of the bridge. Both Freelancers.

Agent Carolina’s body language was relaxed. Not in the sense that she wasn’t ready for a fight. More like a lioness watching as a jackal approached her kill. Ready to pounce at a moments notice.

Then there was Washington. He was more cautious. From what he could dig up, Locus knew he would defer to Carolina in almost every instance. He would follow her lead. Separating them was a priority. It would make it more difficult for them to strategize.

Felix: focus, you dumb ass!

Locus’ gaze snaps back to Carolina as she greets them.

“Hello boys.” She tips her helmet.

“So-” Locus acknowledges them. “You’ve chosen to make a final stand.”

In a flash of brilliant cobalt light, an AI flickers over Carolinas’ shoulder. This must have been the Epsilon unit.

“These two couldn’t resist a rematch.” He chuckles, his voice was a touch more…haggard than the last time Locus had heard him.

He snorts, adjusting his grip on his gun. “Admirable, but hopeless.”

Washington takes a step forward. It’s extremely transparent that he’s speaking directly to the taller mercenary. “Think about what you’re doing.” Firm, but with a clear desperation. “If you activate this temple, it kills everyone. Our soldiers and yours.”

His hands tighten.

Felix overtakes him, the sharp angles of his armor catching the light of the magma. He tsk’s sarcastically. “That’s war, Wash. Not everyone makes it back.”

That doesn’t deter the Freelancer. “They can if you turn away.” If his helmet were off, Locus knew his eyes would be locked on his own. “You can choose to end this now!”

The merc' has to break the thread of tension between them. He casts his gaze away from the others. Damn it…what if they needed reinforcements afterwards? Could the Purge reach into the atmosphere? What if they brought down the-

“No, we can’t.” Felix replies, his words forming a pointed dagger. “We have our orders. Right, partner?”

A gauntlet of steel and orange grips his shoulder, fingers digging into his powerful muscle. The metaphorical blade sliding between his ribs. This feels so inescapable…

“If the three of you are here, I can only assume the rest are attempting to reactivate the Communication Temple.” Locus theorizes.

Carolina nods, shifting her weight. “That’s right.”

Hm. The honesty is a surprise. “You’d really put that much faith in them?”

The AI snickers, leaning against his projected rifle. “Yeah, we’re not too worried.”

There’s a deafening shriek of static over the internal comm link, and a distant explosion emanates from somewhere else on Chorus. A cacophony of panic builds over their radios.

“Comm’ temple is under attack! They’re hitting us hard!”

Felix is dumbfounded, his response is terse. “What are you talking about?”

“They’ve got tanks! Lasers! All sorts of alien stuff!”

Another line opens up. This one Locus knew. He was aboard the Tartarus.

“What?!”

A faint voice echoes from his microphone. It was Price. “How is that possible?!”

“I don’t know.”

“You said they wouldn’t be a threat!”

There’s a momentary scuffle, his teammate growling. “Back off! We’ve got this handled.” He huffs, his attention returning to his commanding officers. “Felix, Locus…whatever secret weapon you two are activating? You better do it fast.”

Carolina might not be able to hear their radios, but she certainly catches the unmistakable sound of a sizable firefight elsewhere. As she addresses them again, her AI flickers out of view. “Sounds like you’re the one that should be worried.”

His partner tosses his head like a petulant teenager. “As if…”

Felix: sights up.

The duo open up on the stray Freelancers. Predictably, they dive for the pylons on either side of the bridge. There’s a beat before they return the favor, forcing the pair into cover as well.

Locus quickly catches onto Carolina’s shot pattern, clipping her long arm. It skitters across the ground as she stumbles behind her hide. He can hear the two trade remarks, though he can’t hear what they say.

What he does hear is the pin of a grenade.

Oh, please.

Locus quickly picks it out of the sky, realizing a fraction too late that Washington preferred a lower arc when using explosives.

A string of shots punch through his rifle, one nearly ripping through the unarmored part of his shoulder. He snarls, dipping behind his cover. His sniper was useless in this state. He whips his head over to his distracted partner. “We need to re-strategize.”

Felix nods, knowing Locus wouldn’t mention it if he didn’t mean it. He glances up, thinking for a moment. The subtle flick of his chin points out the hovering shapes above them. “Well, we can’t go through them…”

Locus gives a sound of agreement.

He hides behind the man’s shield as they charge into no man’s land. He can see their foes ducking out of cover. They wouldn’t be able to see his hands through Felix, so he readies his own grenades. 

“What?!” He hears from Washington. Oh, you just wait. He had quite the plan in mind.

Felix stops on a dime, letting Locus vault off his back. The second his boot plants firmly onto the platform, he releases his explosives. They clatter to the floor below, sending the Freelancers tumbling out of the blast.

“Look out!” The man barks uselessly.

Carolina tries to aim at him as he’s whisked beyond hearing range. Locus pays her little mind, getting to his feet. He takes a moment to rearm himself with his shotgun. It may not be his usual cup of tea, but would be more helpful in case of-

He was in the middle of turning around when he sees stars. His back hits the deck and he snarls in a rage. He spots the flash of aqua and takes aim, trying to catch her in the side. She ducks it, leaving enough time to get up.

She tries to shoot him with her side arm, but he avoids it. Locus grunts, grabbing the side of the magnum and forcing it safely aside. She unloads pointlessly, just causing his ears to ring. He doesn’t have enough reach to return the favor without risking her being quicker on the draw. Rather than that, he decides to use one hand to flip his shotgun around and harshly clubs the Freelancer with the stock.

Carolina managed to get a round off, but he just smacked her arm, knocking it off course. He shoves her back far enough so he can try and get a shot in. She predicts that, yanking the barrel towards the horizon. He quickly prevents her from unloading into the center of his visor.

Enough! Locus snatches her wrist out of the air, wrenching it hard enough to force her into dropping her pistol. Carolina repaid the favor by stealing his shotgun and kicking him square in the chest. She barely lines it up before he notices the incoming danger.

As a rogue platform sails past, the two lean out of its way. Locus is ready the moment it clears. He’s always had one hell of a kick and uses it to knock her off the edge.

“No!” She gasps.

He hesitates before going to confirm she’d taken the plunge. Good thing he did because he keeps her from returning the favor as she slings her way back upright. Not fast enough to keep her from bashing him with his own firearm.

He reels back, managing to stay on the foothold. He grapples with her, fingers trying to dig into her delicate throat.

Carolina wriggles out of his grip, driving her elbow into his stomach. She must have hit an edge of his armor, because Locus can see her hand spasm. She’s shaking it off when her cohort calls out for her.

“Carolina!” Washington’s prone, struggling to get to his feet as Felix makes a run for the temple.

Surely he wouldn’t try to activate it without Locus, right?

That moment of hesitation is all Carolina needs to wind up a beautifully executed roundhouse kick. It knocks the mercenary to the platform, causing spots to blind his vision.

During the time it takes for him to get his sight back, Carolina has snared his partner with her grappling hook.

“Oh, come on!” Felix snarls. He thinks fast, catching Washington’s leg as he’s dragged over the vast moat.

Locus can see how she has to focus to keep them both aloft.

Somewhere below, he can hear Washington cry out, voice lurching. “ Oohhh my GOD!”

“You drop me, you drop us both!” Felix has a manic edge to his words. 

“Do. NOT . Drop him!” As if that needed to be said.

Carolina takes a deep breath, using every ounce of her strength to haul the two skyward.

The mercenary can hear two sets of grav-boots activating, as well as Carolina’s grappling hook retracting.

His partner is fed up, voice strained. The two are on the clock until they pass out from the blood rushing to their heads. “Oh, now this is just ridiculous!”

“We’ve had worse.” Comes Agent Washington’s reply. Of course. Everyone involved in this fight had gone through plenty of awful scenarios. That doesn’t matter to Felix. The man was never the patient sort.

Locus can hear the crackle of an energy sword being activated. He moves to intervene. Knowing Felix, he was going to do something stupid.

Carolina moves in the corner of his eye and Locus goes to intercept her. She blocks one of his kicks but doesn’t have time to avoid him driving a knee into her chest. He knocks her down, Startled when the tines of the sword emerge from the platform, mere inches from the Freelancer’s arm.

“...Wash…!” She calls out, bracing for Locus’ next strike.

Suddenly Locus is being manhandled. Agent Washington twists his arm behind his back, unbalancing him. The man then lands three blows before a well planted kick forces Locus to back off.

“Right…okay, what’s happening?” Washington asks his teammate.

She’s getting up, breathing hard. “The usual.”

Felix: ride at twelve.

He sends the message before joining his partner atop the structure.

Indeed, another platform was fast approaching. Taking advantage of the confusion, the merc’s quickly climb aboard, leaving the Freelancers below.

“Fucking finally.” Felix rasps, making sure to flip their adversaries off.

“Don’t let your guard down.” Locus warns, watching as Carolina reaches for her grappling hook. “They’re going for the temple!”

“Oh please.” The smaller man retrieves his grenade launcher from his belt. He waits until the Freelancers are mid-swing and takes the shot. It hits home, clinging to the anchor point.

Locus can hear Washington scream as the two are thrown onto an approaching platform.

“C’mere.” Felix mutters before driving his sword into their foothold. It slices neatly in half.

“Jump!” Carolina barks.

As the two are getting their bearings, Locus cloaks himself. He silently distances himself from where his partner swings his blade at Carolina. Stalking over to Washington, who is certainly looking for him.

“Huh?” The Freelancer huffs, only to be sucker punched by the invisible mercenary. He swings blindly, trying (and failing) to dodge the incoming blows. Locus socks him in the gut, putting some distance between them.

In that moment, the Agent retrieves-...Oh he was going to strangle Felix.

Locus: Why does he have your knives?!

The man messages as Washington slices open his palm. Locus tries to avoid the spray of blood, but it splatters across his chest-plate.

Felix: busy. deal with it.

Washington recaptures Locus’ attention, confidently tossing the blade up, catching it. “Hi there.”

It’s all the mercenary hears before said knife is lodged into his shoulder. In its wake, the Agent bursts forward, using his boot to force the weapon deeper into Locus’ muscle. He takes advantage, pummeling the larger man in the face.

Locus snarls, a harsh headbutt ridding himself of his attacker. He rips the dagger out, swiftly pouncing on Washington.

The Freelancer intercepts his arm, halting the blade from burrowing into his throat.

Damn it. He was stronger than he looked. Locus growls low in his chest. He’s desperate to rid himself of this man. This weakness. Nothing more than a liability. The handle of the knife is creaking under the strain.

“Just…” Locus hisses, his free hand joining the effort to bring an end to this infuriating soldier. “ Die…”

The Agent holds fast, his chest rising and falling. “Killing me won’t make you feel better.”

Oh it most certainly would.

“It’ll just prove my point.”

Locus falters. It’s subtle enough that most would have no idea.

Except for the man he was straddling. Washington caught it immediately, using the moment to push back.

Son of a bitch. Locus quickly turns to his partner. “Felix!” 

He watches as the man’s sword finally finds its target. It rakes along Carolina’s armor, blood seeping through.

Felix is rapidly approaching his companion, ready to rid Washington of his life.

“Wash!” Carolina shouts.

The man in question bucks Locus off, rolling out of the way of the sword’s path. It easily slices through the platform. A shudder rocks the group, the lights shutting off.

The anti-gravity device.

Damn it!

“Oh…shit.” Felix mumbles, retracting his blade.

There’s a moment that passes. All of them stand, knowing the fight would have to wait. The mercenaries try to use their grav-boots to stay aloft, but it’s a struggle.

“Going down!” Carolina points out needlessly. She’s focused on the closest spit of land. “Hold on…hold on… NOW! ”

They all take a leap of faith, rolling onto the bridge. Not an inch was gained in that entire encounter.

“Back to square one.” Carolina muses dryly.

Locus and his partner stand. The latter was breathing hard. His armor’s fans did their best to circulate air but it did little good.

“Alright, guys. This has been fun but…” He gestures towards their foes. “If you could just keel over and die already , that’d be great!”

Washington laughs, though he’s also out of breath. “What’s wrong buddy…? Getting tired?”

Obviously. Felix wasn’t built for prolonged fights. 

“I’m not tired!” The man lies, his chest heaving. “You’re tired! I can do this shit all day!”

Couldn’t be further from the truth.

Washington nods mildly, favoring his right leg. “We know. In fact…we kinda planned on it.”

What?

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Felix hissed irritably. “Christ, man! Always with the cryptic one-liners…”

Carolina chuckles, shaking her head. “We don’t have to beat you, we just have to waste your time.”

What? Locus takes a step back, studying the pair. “What are you talking about…?”

Another flash of blue heralds Epsilon’s return. “What she’s trying to say, is that you two have already lost.”

Felix gives an unhinged snicker, anger creeping into his voice. “Oh ho ho, really? And when exactly …did that happen?”

The AI shrugs simply. “The moment Donald Doyle blew half your troops to hell.”

A blinding beam of orange slices into the heavens. No…they couldn’t have!

“See-” Epsilon continues. “We may have lost our whole base…but you left yours wide open.”

There’s a terrible shriek of metal above them. The atmosphere breaks, clouds sheering away to reveal the Tartarus is going down. It’s useless. There was no way they could change its course.

Felix freezes, stunned. “What?!”

Epsilon takes a moment to taunt them. “You crash our ship, we crash yours!”

Carolina is on the move. “Run!” She orders.

“Fall back!” Locus concurs.

The four…five? Of them manage to get across the moat in time. Felix calls out to Locus. “Get behind me!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Locus dives behind his partner, protecting his head. The hard-light shield throws strange shadows as the vessel rips into the temple. He can faintly hear Carolina barking orders before he’s buried in rubble.

The first thing that greets him is pain. Not that atypical. What was out of the norm was how severe it was. Hands drag him into the waking world.

“Get up you lazy piece of shit!” Felix snarls, smacking his pauldron.

It takes Locus a few minutes to pull himself together.

According to his HUD, he needed immediate medical attention. The mercenary enables his healing unit, hoping the fractures it noted weren’t going to fuse wrong.

“Hospital?” Locus grunts, trying to stand.

“ Hospital?! ” Felix balks, grabbing his partner’s throat. “You can earn that once we fucking destroy the sims and Freelancers!”

“Felix, I could bleed out.” He wheezes. “ You could bleed out. There’s no point in hunting them down. We need to regroup-”

“Are you giving up ?” The smaller man’s voice takes on a very dangerous edge. Like a wounded animal, ready to lash out at any movement. “Well that’s just fine, huh? Gonna abandon your boyfriend?!”

“I am not. ” Locus growls, finally getting his feet under him. His head is swimming. “I’m being realistic.”

“Yeah? Well, realistically I’m going to take the Falcon, and I’m going to do my damned job!” Felix limps towards the damaged craft.

“Felix. You are going to get us killed.” Locus follows slowly, feeling as if he was marching to his own grave. “We can afford to lose.”

“ No! I will not be bested by a group of fake soldiers!” The man hisses, shoving Locus into one of the seats. “Just because you were too much of a fucking coward to kill Wash every time you got into a scrap!”

Locus scowls, vision blurring. “This is not my fault.”

“Oh it isn’t?” Felix yanks off a panel so he can hot wire the aircraft. “You had him dead to rights over twenty times! Why isn’t he in the ground huh?”

“ Felix.” He warns.

“Is it because you still think he could be one of us?” There’s a loud pop, followed by a string of curses before he continues. “He would never accept us. You’re a monster, Locus. He ain’t gonna let a creature like you into his bed!”

“ Felix.” Locus is drifting towards unconsciousness.

“You are going to help me bury him, Locus.” There’s a shudder, the Falcon starting to push away from the ground. “Am I making myself clear?”

He’s not sure if he answered one way or another before he slips into darkness.

He’s jolted back into the waking world when the Falcon crashes. Locus drags himself out, leaning against a wall. He must have passed out again because next thing he knows Felix is barking orders at him.

“Wake up!” He throws a SAW into the mercenaries lap. “I told you we’d make it.”

Locus has no memory of that conversation. Black spots dance in his vision. It takes an enormous amount of effort to just talk. “Felix…it’s over.”

His partner doesn’t care. Felix just activates his sword, rolling his shoulders. “Run your camo, and stick to the shadows. I’ll draw them out.”

Bastard. “The Tartarus is destroyed, our numbers are falling, the mission-”

Something in Felix snaps in that moment. “ FUCK the mission!” He flails his arms in frustration. “Jesus Christ, for once in your life, would you forget about following god damn orders!! I’m not doing this for Hargrove…I’m doing this for me!”

“You. Are going. To die. ” Locus rumbles, seeing flecks of blood on the inside of his visor. This was a fool's errand. 

“I. Don’t. Fucking. Care! ” His partner retorts, kicking at his leg. “Get over yourself and get ready.”

Felix doesn’t wait around to hear anything else Locus has to say. He stalks off into the structure, leaving him to his fate.

Locus carefully props himself up, mindlessly wandering the temple. Gods…everything hurts so badly. This was it. End of the line…he doesn’t make it very far before he collapses. He needs to let his healing unit run for a moment, then he’ll be able to walk…he hopes.

A blinding flash of red materializes before him. One of the temple AI. Locus wheezes, staring at the hologram.

“Why have you come here, meddler?” It asks.

“To kill the simulation troopers.” Locus answers after a moment.

“Will this secure your victory over their forces?”

“No…” He admits.

“Then what purpose will it serve?”

“I don’t know…” Why does it care?

“Then why are you trying?”

What was this? “I don’t know…”

“What do you know?” It challenges.

“ I don’t know! ” Locus snarls, but it turns into a rough cough.

“Hm. Then what do you want to know?”

…Well, if he was going to die anyway… “I…I want to know…what Felix is afraid of.”

The AI doesn’t seem to be surprised by that. In fact, it’s like it was prepared for that very query. “You were broken by war. It was his goal to see you never healed…because despite what he may claim, only one of you needs the other to survive.”

Huh? His head swims as he tries to sit up. “What are you saying?” His voice is strained.

“Ignorant creature. Your partner is afraid of you. ”

…Of course. All those looks he could never place. It was fear. Felix was all too aware of how delicate his control over Locus was.

He takes a few more moments, trying to ignore the way the program continues to watch him. Maybe it was just intrigued by him. Maybe it was recording…who knows. Eventually Locus’ healing unit patches him up enough to get to his feet.

He cloaks himself, slowly stalking along the edges of the battle. It just seemed to be the Reds and Blues. Part of him wants to help Felix. The other part knows doing it would ensure his death…because the AI was right. Felix needed Locus. But the Locus he needed was a deeply broken man. Never permitted to recover from the trauma he suffered with.

Maybe that’s why he was so adamant about pushing him to kill Washington.

What? Where had that come from? Locus shakes his head. While the idea had come to him out of nowhere…it did have some weight. The Agent was always challenging Locus to reexamine his ideology. Shone a light on his flawed rhetoric.

Felix didn’t want to risk Locus leaving.

Washington kept trying to get through to him. To make him change.

Well…there was that old saying. Something about holding on too tightly.

Maybe it was time to let go.

Locus takes a moment to breathe, leaning against a railing. He watches as Felix takes the blue trooper’s gun, aiming at him.

Wasn’t that the gun with an AI-

A shower of…confetti? Rains from the barrel. Felix makes some kind of baffled statement before it recoils, hitting him, forcing the man to drop it.

Locus shakes his head, slinking up behind the troopers. He’s able to catch the tail end of the conversation. He’s surprised to find Epsilon is with the aqua soldier. (Tucker. That one’s name is Tucker.)

“Yeah…we might be losers, Felix, but we still kicked your ass.” Epsilon taunts.

The others begin to circle his partner, cutting off any safe escape route. Felix draws himself to his knees, a crazed laugh bubbling from his throat. He locks eyes with his cloaked ally. “Think again!”

Something shifts in his mind. He knows what he has to do. It was now or never. This was his out.

He throws his SAW to the floor.

Felix freezes, confused.

Tucker turns, trying to figure out where the gun had come from. 

Locus drops his camo, towering over the soldiers. There’s a minor panic, several of them expressing fear and backing away. Tucker is the only one with the sense to pull a weapon on him.

“Freeze!” He ordered.

The mercenary levels him with a look. He’s actually rather impressed the trooper was bold enough to challenge him. After a moment, Locus returns his attention to Felix.

“Locus, what are you doing?” Felix hisses in disbelief. “You’re supposed to kill them!”

There’s no hesitation in what he’s going to say. “No.”

The shock in his partner’s voice is raw. Horrified… Afraid. “What?!”

That sentiment is echoed by the others, including Tucker, who lowers his rifle.

Locus knows he can’t over complicate this. This was his one shot to get away, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to take it. “No more killing.”

Felix looks pathetic, even smaller from this angle. The fury that colours his voice is all too familiar. “What are you talking about? You’re a soldier, remember?!”

Huh. He really did need him. “I’m not a soldier.” He states calmly. “I’m a monster… Like you.”

His partner struggles to his feet, begging in that way that used to have Locus in a choke hold. “Locus, we’re…partners. Survivors. We need each other. Wh-...what about our orders? Our reward?! Becoming the ultimate weapon.”

He will not fall for it this time. He cruelly mirror’s the man’s former words back to him. “I’m not doing this for the reward. I’m not doing this because someone told me to. I’m doing this for me. ”

The smaller of the two sighs deeply. He doesn’t bother with keeping up the charade. He drops the frantic desperation like a hot coal. Replaced with a hateful specter of the man that once occupied his quarters.

“Then you can die with the rest of them.”

Felix activates his sword, hurling it directly at Locus. He and Tucker both dive out of the way, along with the tall blue trooper. (Caboose. That one is Caboose.) The mercenary uses a foot to kick the SAW into his hands, spraying at the trio of red soldiers. Chaos ensues.

“Hit the deck!” The orange one- (Grif. It’s Grif.) cries.

The rest of red team (and the medic) takes aim, and opens up on Felix.

“Get ‘im!” Donut is far too cheery for the situation he was in.

His target calmly uses his shield, negating the assault.

The pink soldier squeaks before turning tail to run.

As his partner…former partner? Moves his shield to catch the other flank, he’s dumbfounded when a sticky grenade glues itself to his defense. “Huh?”

Locus moves his gaze to the direction it came from. Simmons is reloading the gun, while Sarge and Grif provide cover for him.

“Heh. Guess we learned a thing or two from you villains after all.” Sarge proclaims.

He’d never admit it, but Locus felt a bloom of pride unfurl in his chest.

Tucker gets to his feet next to him, a sly smirk shining through his voice. “Hey, Felix. Catch.”

Maybe he was starting to understand what Washington saw in these fools.

Felix tries to scramble away. “W-wait…!” He reaches out towards Locus before the pair of explosives detonate. He’s hurled off the cliff, screaming until he can no longer be heard.

“...Holy shit. That was way better than incineration!” Grif sounds like he’s watching a movie, rather than participating in a real battle.

“Did we do it?” Donut peeks from his hiding place.

Well, there’s an easy way to find out. Locus squeezes the handle of the energy sword. It emerges with no trouble, casting light over every surface. He glances to the control room.

He catches Epsilon’s worried reply. “Yeah, I think we did…”

Locus twists his wrist, taking in the long, sinuous angles of the blade. “It’s said that only a true warrior can activate these temples.”

The troops draw closer, stress evident even with their armor. Tucker lifts his sidearm, training it on the center of Locus’ visor.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He questions the man.

He chooses to answer that by sliding the sword through the lock. He feels some level of satisfaction as the soldier stands down. Soon, the red AI appears.

“The tower is ready.” It announces. “You may transmit your message.”

Locus turns to leave, focusing on not limping.

Tucker immediately challenges this. “Hey, just ‘cause you saved us doesn’t mean you can leave, asshole. You killed innocent people!”

His steps pause. Locus nods solemnly. “I know. I’m going to make things right…but not from inside a cell.”

Epsilon flickers over Tucker’s shoulder. “If you run, we’ll find you.”

Ah. Funny program. “No…you won’t.”

And with that, he activates his camo, vanishing into broad daylight.

Locus isn’t sure why he sticks around for a while. Some deep seated sense of duty, perhaps. He decides to check where Felix had died. It was predictably awful. Twisted limbs and bloodied bone.

He carefully pries off his late partner’s helmet. For how horrendous his death was, Felix-...Isaac looked rather peaceful.

Locus allows himself a moment to grieve. True, the slim man was an abusive asshole. He was manipulative and cruel…but he was the closest thing to home Locus had. He cradles the crushed helm, fighting the nausea swelling in his gut.

It will pass. As all things do.

After what feels like an eternity, Locus rises to his feet. He decides to keep the helmet, stashing it in his subspace pocket.

The air is heavy with the distant scent of fire and fuel. Likely from the Tartarus crash. He begins to make his way back up the cliff side. Locus has to rest regularly, letting his healing unit patch up his weary frame.

It’s during one of these moments that Locus is caught off guard by a request on his private comm’ link.

??? has sent a message. Allow?

He has a rather good idea who this might be. Locus gives it the go ahead.

???: They told me what you did.

Locus: Agent Washington.

Washington: Yeah.

Locus: How did you get this number?

Washington: You have your ways. I have mine.

Locus: Hm. Very well. Why are you contacting me?

Washington: Still trying to figure you out.

Locus: Oh?

Washington: I had the feeling you’d come around.

As had he.

Washington: …What made you change your mind?

Locus must have waited longer than he thought because the Freelancer prompts him.

Washington: You don’t have to explain it if you don’t want to.

Locus: Why do you want to know?

Washington: Like I said, I’m trying to figure out what your deal is.

Locus: After everything?

Washington: Yeah.

Locus: I was trying to kill you this morning.

Washington: Likewise.

Locus: You are a very strange man, Agent Washington.

Washington: You know, you can call me Wash.

Locus: I’m not your friend.

Washington: Didn't stop Felix from calling me it.

Locus: Something tells me you wouldn’t be casually chatting with him if he was the one alive.

Washington: I’d be hunting him down.

Locus: But not me?

Washington doesn’t respond for a fair bit, causing Locus to wonder if he was out of range.

Washington: I haven’t decided yet.

Locus: I will not go quietly.

Washington: Aw, here I was thinking I could bat my eyelashes and you’d walk yourself into a cell.

Locus: You’re not that charming.

Washington: Sure I am.

Locus: …What is this?

Washington: Uh, we’re having a conversation. You going senile?

Locus: Why are you talking to me? Are you trying to bait me into a trap?

Washington: Not everything I do is a plot to catch you, Locs.

Locus isn’t sure how he feels about the nickname.

Locus: If you say so.

Washington: Alright, look. I know you have my comm’ line. Just…I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t want us to keep fighting you.

Locus: Seems simple enough.

Washington: The guys said you swore off killing.

Locus: Correct.

Washington: You want me to hold you to that?

Locus: In what sense.

Washington: When I got out of Freelancer, it was…difficult to adjust. I know you probably don’t have anyone to lean on now that Felix is dead.

Locus: Are you offering to join me?

Washington: What? No.

That shouldn’t sting as much as it does.

Washington: I can’t abandon the sim-troopers.

Locus: They did rather well in their encounter with Felix.

Washington: We both know there will be worse things than you two on the horizon.

Locus: Most likely…So what are you insinuating?

Washington: You have my number. If you find yourself struggling…hit me up.

Locus: …I’ll keep that in mind.

Washington: But don’t get me wrong. If you ever put my soldiers at risk, I will feed you the barrel of your rifle without hesitating.

Locus: Of course.

Washington: Good.

Locus: …You asked what made me change my mind.

Washington: I did.

Locus: I realized there was no point.

Washington: To what exactly?

Locus: Chorus. The war. Your troops. Even if we were successful, the trade off wouldn’t have possibly been worth it. As it stands, Felix was willing to throw us into hell just to satisfy his own ego…I wasn’t prepared to die for him.

Washington: That’s a rough choice.

Locus: …You’ve been there. Haven’t you?

Washington: …Yes.

Locus: That’s why you’re doing this. Isn’t it?

Washington: Dunno.

Locus: Well…I appreciate it. Regardless of your motivations.

Washington: Good. I’ve gotta run. Need to have a meeting with Tucker. Sounds like he went through it too.

Locus: Very well. Until next time, Agent Washington.

Washington: Please, dude. Call me Wash.

Locus: Fine. Until next time, Wash .

Washington: Thank you. Don’t die.

With that, Locus is left to his own thoughts.

Washing-...Wash was so strange. He should be desperate to split the mercenary's throat. But here he was, practically offering therapy to Locus.

Locus has to admit…he’s glad for it.

It’s nearly been a year since Locus had last seen Wash. He’d been responding to distress calls. One of which had lead him to an encounter with a familiar face.

Grif, who was in the midst of having a mental breakdown.

It was an awful trip.

And now he’s here. In a room of corpses, standing eternally.

Well…two of them were still among the living.

“Wash. Stay awake Wash.” Carolina wheezes, her voice dry.

The man in question sounds like he’s about to drift away at any moment. “Just a little rest.”

“You don’t get to rest, Agent Washington.” Locus approaches them. His camo melts away, as he stares at the steel and yellow armor. “Not yet.”

Wash is stunned for a moment. “Well, I’m hallucinating again. This time it kinda looks like Locus.”

Carolina makes a confused hum. “Wait. I see him too.”

Ugh. “This is…awkward, isn’t it?” Locus muses.

“That…depends.” She sounds like she’s getting weaker.

“Are you here to kill us?” Wash finishes her thought.

Locus rolls his eyes. “I sure get that a lot.” He sighs heavily.

He gets to work, breaking the armor lock for Carolina first. He makes sure she’s steady before moving on to Washington.

He’s significantly more frail than his cohort. As Locus unlocks his suit, the man takes a deep breath. He leans into Locus’ side, at least until he can stand on his own. However long it takes.

After a few minutes, Wash grumbles as he cracks his neck. “Yeah, that’s the spot.”

Carolina rolls her shoulders, clearly trying to ignore the pain in her body. “Just give me one minute. I’ll be ready to fight-”

Locus shakes his head, holding up his hands. “Doubtful. Your life-support system has failed. You’re starving and dehydrated.”

“Just one minute.” She hisses tersely.

Washington, on the other hand, leans back into Locus’ body. “So. Seems like you’ve been busy, big guy.” His voice is breathless. 

Carolina butts into their conversation. “What my delusional friend is trying to say is what the hell are you doing here?”

He forgot how overbearing she could be. “Several months ago, the Blues and Reds stole the power generator from a colony of refugees.”

“So, it’s a charity case?” She guesses.

“No.” Locus shakes his head, trying to not over balance with Wash pressing his full weight against him. “Without clean water and air, they perished. Every man, woman, and child.”

“Jesus.” Washington mumbles.

Carolina continues prying. “How did you find out about it? Did you know them?”

“I tracked the Blues and Reds to this sector, where I found your robot drifting towards a nearby black hole.”

“Well.” Wash finally moves to stand under his own power again. “As soon as this elevator stops, I’ll be ready to kick ass and take names.”

Locus highly doubts that. “We’re not in an elevator.”

“Oh.” He pauses, glancing around. “Well, in that case, it’s gonna be up to you three to save the day.”

Even in her dazed state, Carolina realizes that’s not right. She glances at Washington. “ Three ?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “You, Locus and Big Bird over there.”

Carolina follows Wash’s gaze, finding nothing to speak of.

“What up, Big B?” He nods towards the empty air.

God help him. Locus sighs harshly. “Both of you are past the point of usefulness.”

Carolina snaps her attention back to him, voice still struggling. “You’ve never needed our help mowing down soldiers before.”

…She wasn’t wrong , per say. “I don’t…do that anymore.”

This throws her for a loop and she nearly over balances as turns to look at her partner. “Wash, is it possible to hallucinate with your ears?”

Yes. It’s called auditory hallucinations.

Washington must be on a different planet at this point, judging by his response. “I don’t know, officer. I swear. I usually keep it in the glove box.” Apparently he’s being pulled over.

Locus takes a breath. “I promised myself I would change. I’m not going back on that now.”

“You really expect us to believe you can just change overnight?”

It’s been ten months. “Given the things you two have done, I would hope so.”

Washington sways, voice slurring. “This is gonna suck-...” He trails off.

This wasn’t working. Locus needs to find someone he can actually hold a conversation with. He sighs. “Agents.”

They both glance at him.

“I need to find help. I want you both to stay here.” He turns to Wash. “Actually, would you make sure he sits, Carolina? I’m concerned he’s going to collapse.”

To his surprise, she doesn’t put up any fuss. She grabs Washington’s hand and pulls him down. The two land in a heap.

This was going to be a long day.

Locus prowls towards the loudest source of voices he can hear. He can definitely hear Sarge’s distinctive accent.

Then someone he’s less familiar with speaks. “Everyone, be quiet. Someone’s coming.”

Locus emerges from the shadows, immediately announcing his intentions. “I’m not here to kill you.”

The two in white and azure jolt backwards.

The woman speaks first. “Holy shit.”

Then the man with the camera equipment on his helmet adds his thoughts. “Ah, fuck! That is a terrible way to say hello!”

“You? What in the Sam Hell are you doing here?” Sarge already has his shotgun aimed at the ex-mercenary’s stomach.

“Attempting a rescue.”

The muzzle of the firearm lowers as Sarge seems a touch surprised. “Same here. Y’ remember the procedure for this?”

…What? “For?”

“C’mon. We aren’t goin’ anywhere before we find out who’s leadin’ the rescue mission.”

The red leader stows his gun and holds out his hand in a clear indication that he’s about to start a round of rock-paper-scissors. Locus can’t help but stare at him. He remembers how…difficult it was to tolerate most of these soldiers.

It doesn’t take long to figure out the man’s pattern. As embarrassing as it is, Locus participates to get it over with. They make their way to the prison block to retrieve the others.

“Hot damn!” Sarge chortles. “Paper after rock. Brilliant move! I guess I should expect nothin’ less from a cunning murderous bastard like yerself.”

Locus is reconsidering his stance on violence against the Reds and Blues. “Please, stop talking.”

Grif is clearly smirking, his hands resting on his hips. “See? I told you guys. Me and Locus are partners now.”

Absolutely not. Locus activates his sword. “Please, stop!” He growls as he opens Tucker’s cell.

The soldier in question states. “For the record, I hate this.”

“I dig this.” Grif retorts.

In the midst of their discussion, Locus finds himself blindsided by Caboose. The tall blue trooper practically pounces on him, dragging the man into a crushing hug. This would be awkward enough normally, let alone in armor.

“I hate this.” Locus mutters to himself.

After extracting himself from Caboose’s grip, Locus sets about getting everyone’s weapons back to them. He finds Grif and Sarge having a…moment.

“Sarge.”

“Grif. Glad yer uhm…back.” He states stiffly.

The orange trooper is cautious in his phrasing. “I guess I should say the same to you?”

The older man nods as though he’s done a grand job. “Well, contrary t’ what you may have heard, I was secretly a good guy all along. Now, no need t’ thank me everyone…Please clap.”

Tucker objects, gesturing out of frustration. “Oh bull fucking shit! You just got done stabbing us in the back!”

It’s clear that Sarge wasn’t expecting to be pressed on this point. “Men, I…I…I order you all to forgive me!”

Oh, that wasn’t a smart move.

Tucker digs his heels in. “Not happening, dude.”

Damn it. “We can deal with this later.” Locus tries to intervene.

“No, we can’t.” Tucker places a hand on Locus’ shoulder. “This Judas ain’t coming with us. He can stay in the empty cell while we escape.”

Simmons decides he has to interject. “That’s a little extreme, Tucker.”

Another bad choice. One that just lights a fire under the aqua soldier.

“Is it? Those fuckers lied to us about Church, imprisoned our friends, and Sarge was there serving them tea and biscuits.”

Sarge gets that tone he uses when he’s working up to some kind of speech. “I didn’t know about any of that! The clever devils blinded me. They, uh, no…No, I take that back.” He takes a breath. “Men, the Blues and Reds didn’t blind me. I blinded myself. I wanted an enemy so bad, I turned my friends into my enemies, and enemies into friends. My real enemy was within. ”

Huh. Not the worst.

Caboose has to ruin the mood by chirping, “Ah, yep, I know what that is. That’s gas.”

Damn it, Caboose.

“I don’t expect y’ all to forgive me immediately, but I hope I’ll earn the privilege of yer friendship over time. And I promise each and every one of you, it won’t happen ever, ever again. Anytime soon…probably.”

That last bit sets Tucker off. “ Probably?! ” He shrieks.

It’s Locus’ turn to grab Tucker. He takes his upper arm, firmly squeezing to force the soldier to pay attention. “ I , for one, believed every word and found that very moving.” He lies. “Now, can we go please?”

Thankfully, Tucker seems to pick up on his urgency. He gives a dramatic sigh, not unlike a teenager, and motions for Locus to lead on.

Thankfully it doesn’t take long to herd the sim-troopers towards where the Freelancers were. He had tasked the two newcomers with tending to them as he retrieved the Reds and Blues.

Locus greets the woman. “Trouble while we were gone?”

She shakes her head. “None, it’s been quiet. Too quiet.”

Tucker sounds horrified. “Oh, Jesus. What did they do to you?” His voice is soft as he makes his way over to the Agents.

“We’re fine.” Carolina sounds like she’s a bit better. Just a bit.

Wash, on the other hand… “That’s what she said. Oooh! High five up to-” He coughs roughly. “Up top.”

Ugh. He seems to be deteriorating. He needed fluids at the very least. Locus decides to look for a clinic in case he takes a dive.

Caboose asks…something? All Locus caught was about shoelaces for some reason.

Tucker brings it back to more important topics. “Are you okay? Can you guys fight?”

Carolina nods. “Almost ready. My strength’s coming back to me.”

No. He refuses to let her pride get her killed. “Lying isn’t going to help. We need to move now. The longer we stay here, the higher the chance we’re detected.

Tucker tilts his helmet towards the door. “Well, we didn’t see anyone on the way here. This place suddenly feels like a ghost town.”

True, he’d also noticed that. “They must have moved out and left a skeleton guard to watch the cells.”

Caboose pipes up, raising his hand. “Oh, c’mon! We can handle one skeleton. The ghost town though, we’re gonna need to call someone for that.”

How was this man still alive.

Sarge grunts. “Time’s a-wastin’ gentleman. Let’s get a move on.”

The woman (He thinks her name is Dylan?) protests. “Not so fast. We still don’t know enough about their machine.”

Locus is about to grill her, when Tucker does it for him. “Fuck. That. It’s time to get out of here, not play Nancy Drew.”

She doesn’t like that answer one bit. “ All of this has been building up to something big , and I don’t think it’s a press release. Jax and I are gonna find out what’s really going on.”

Journalists.  

“Count me in.” Is uttered by the last person Locus anticipated it from.

And the others too, judging by Tucker’s response. “Whoa, did Grif just volunteer?”

Carolina turns to look at Washington. “...And I’m ear-hallucinating again, Wash.”

“Uh-oh. Spaghetti-o’s…” He mutters, seemingly staring at an invisible bug, judging by how his helmet traces circles on the horizon.

Locus can’t stand seeing him in this state.

Simmons is the next to offer his services. Not surprising as he and Grif seemed to be a matched set. “Count me in.”

“How about the rest of us secure the exit?” Tucker asks, likely not wanting their forces to be spread too thin.

Locus has to agree. “A decent plan, all things considered.”

Well, it would have been a good idea, if not for the damaged state of the ship they found. Oh, and also the Zealots they found swarming the vehicle bay. Locus sighs harshly. “So much for an easy escape.”

Caboose, seemingly in the middle of an epiphany, shouts. “Wait a second…these aren’t skeletons!”

Grif joins them, shrugging. “It’s cool, guys. Locus can just call his alien spaceship.”

Not happening. “It’s a crowded ship with two …we need the Pelican.”

“I’ll cover you all from here.” Sarge offers.

He wouldn’t have believed these were the men that killed Felix if he wasn’t there to witness it. “Your shotgun has an effective range of two meters. If anyone should provide cover, it’s me.”

Carolina hums, tilting her head to watch him from the corner of her visor. “I thought you swore off killing.”

Locus bristles when he hears both Tucker and Caboose laughing loudly.

“Good one.” Tucker wheezes.

Caboose seems like he’s just mimicking his teammate. “Haha! That is a very funny joke and no one needs to explain it to me…Was I laughing too hard?”

He decides to ignore them. “I did swear off killing. But you don’t need your kneecaps to live.” In fact, there were many places one could lose and survive. Shoulders were a favorite, behind the aforementioned leg wounds. Can’t lift a gun without them.

Grif glances over at Locus. “What about your ship? It’s got weapons, right?”

Locus rolls his eyes. “Yes, they’re very useful for splitting asteroids , less practical indoors. No, this will require some planning. If we play our cards right, we can escape without the need for violence.”

“Fuck that. These sons of bitches are our enemies, and I, for one, am ready for some motherfucking revenge.” Tucker’s boots scrape loudly as he takes off.

Wait, what?!

Locus drops what he’s doing, Carolina trying to intervene.

“Tucker, don’t-”

The man in question hollers as he starts shooting the opposing foot soldiers.

Locus gets his rifle, snarling a string of curses in Spanish as he gets into position to keep Tucker from getting himself killed. “Idiot!” He chastises the man as he takes out one of the enemies legs.

All hell breaks loose at that point. It had been quite some time since he’d been in an active firefight.

He can’t help but lecture Tucker more. He’d been doing rather well from what he could tell. This foolishness was infuriating when they had wounded on the line. “We had the element of surprise! Now we’re just fish in a barrel.”

Tucker scoffs. “We’re fish with guns! Let’s use ‘em!”

Their foes are chattering some inane nonsense that Locus frankly doesn’t care to hear. He watches in shock as an unarmed grenade arcs beautifully (useless as it might be) until it hits one of the enemies on the head.

It would have been a brilliant move if it had been used properly.

That’s when he hears it. The telling whirl of a mini gun spinning up. It rips across their barricades, forcing Locus into hiding.

Simmons hollers, “Everyone, get into cover!”

His commander seems to be…enthralled? “We’re pinned! We might die! It’s so excitin’!”

Ugh.

Tucker screams at the ex-mercenary. “Locus, shoot him already!”

Oh as though he wouldn’t have already if he could? The guns were designed to be highly protective of their operators. He desperately tries to find an angle, but fails. “I have no shot. Repositioning.” He warns before activating his camo. He carefully slinks around the side of the battlefield, but freezes when he hears Tucker shouting a name repeatedly.

“Wash? Wash. Wash! ”

Wash?! Locus whips around to see the Freelancer stumbling out into the fray.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Tucker’s voice is going shrill from how loud he is. “Wash, get down!”

That only serves to get the delirious soldier’s attention. He woozily turns to greet his teammate. “Oh hey, T-”

A single shot rings out, and it’s like the whole world shrinks. Locus is forced to watch Wash collapse after being caught in the throat. Time slows to a crawl, and there’s just one thing in the man’s mind.

He will not allow Wash to die like this.

Locus can hear the others bursting into action. The Reds and Blues get their shit together and charge the Zealots. It hardly takes any time to remove the threat. Once he knows he won’t be taken out, Locus rushes to Wash’s side. He has to force himself to not panic. He quickly gets his first aid kit out, grabbing anything absorbent and getting pressure on the wound.

Thankfully it looked relatively clean.

“This…isn’t good.” Dylan whispers.

Tucker is frantic. “ Do something! Someone!”

He’s trying. “A’rynasea! Come! Quickly!” He’s relieved she listens, and smoothly glides into the hangar. That ship was the best damn investment he’d made in ages.

Locus grabs Tucker. “Help me get him on the ship. Now!”

Tucker stumbles, but lifts Wash’s legs. “Where are you taking him?”

“The nearest hospital.” Thank everything he’d taken the time to look them up earlier. “He needs immediate care.”

“Well, I’m coming too.” Tucker keeps the ever bloodier gauze in place as Locus jumps into the vessel.

“No room.” Locus points out as he uses one hand to get all the instruments in order while taking over maintaining pressure on the Agent’s throat.

“Fuck that!”

Locus was ready to bite the man’s head off. “The enemy has a head start. If you plan on stopping them, your men are going to need you. Now help me get him on the ship!”

Tucker was definitely not used to Locus raising his voice. He doesn’t fight any further, settling Wash into the passenger seat. He hesitates, glancing back at Locus. “I’m trusting you with him. Don’t make me regret it.”

Then he steps back, letting Locus sail out of the hangar.

The world peels into strands of colour below A’rynasea. She’s a brilliantly fast ship, but it feels like nothing short of teleportation could match the rate he hopes to achieve. Locus can sense how limp Wash is becoming.

He’s going to die. He’s going to die and Locus would never hear him again.

“Stay with me Wash. You’ve got to stay with me.” He pleads with the Freelancer. “Your team needs you alive. Remember, they’re your price. You can’t quit until they’re able to survive without you. That’s what you told me.”

A shaking hand finds its way over to his knee. Likely just a reflex as his body struggled with the loss of blood pressure.

“...You’ll beat this. You always surprise me.” Locus tries to make sure he’s not keeping his grip too tight. “You’d better surprise me, Wash.”

He doesn’t know the last time he’d spoken so much without a reason. Well, logistically speaking, the reason was a self-soothing measure.

There!

Locus quickly brings the ship to dock. He’d already sent them word so EMS was waiting for him on the helipad. They quickly take over for him, getting Wash out of the craft and onto a gurney. They start removing what they need to get him stable.

He glances away, not wanting to sneak a look at Wash when he was unconscious. Faces were a very precious commodity in their line of work, he didn’t want to betray the man’s tenuous trust in him. Not that the Freelancer likely cared as much as he did.

Locus knows he can’t hang around long. He was still very much a wanted man. He politely tips his head to the workers. True, he has to make up an excuse for why he has to leave, as well as explain who will be coming to collect the injured man…or his body.

He lifts off, getting to a safe distance before jumping into warp.

He doesn’t go too far. Just enough that he should be safe.

Then?

Then he breaks down.

Every time. Every. Damned. Time.

Whenever he gets attached to someone, something awful happens to them. It's part of why he hadn't made a move on the Freelancer yet.

Fate didn't seem to care if things were official or not.

He doesn't know how long he sits there. Crying has never come easy to the man. That's just not how he handled himself. So he's a bit shocked when he sees tears fall onto the inside of his visor.

Ugh. He hated cleaning the damned thing. It never felt like he was able to get it spotless.

Considering he was the only one there, Locus removes it. The cool air of his ship was a welcome feeling compared to the stuffy helmet.

Christ…he was a mess.

All this over one man he wasn't even dating. He really had gone soft since Felix had passed.

And he's not entirely sure that's a bad thing.

Washington: I'm alive.

Locus halts in his tracks when he gets the message. It had been roughly a month since he'd last seen the man.

Locus: I'm glad to hear that.

Washington: Tucker is pissed off that you vanished without giving him a way to contact you.

Locus: Tucker has no reason to need my personal number. I told him where you were and how to get there.

Washington: He just keeps bitching about it. Probably gonna keep this up until you surrender it.

Locus: Well, I'm not entirely sure I'm going to give it to him.

Washington: Wasn't asking you to.

Locus: Good.

He's not sure how to broach the subject of his injury.

Locus: How has your recovery been?

Is all he can think of.

Washington: Slow. Thank gods I know ASL.

Locus: It's a useful skill for any soldier to have.

Washington: Mhmm. But the only one who's fluent in it is Car’.

Locus: That must be frustrating.

Washington: Beyond belief. Also technically Donut knows some, but he learned French Sign Language for some reason. He can't even speak French on its own.

Locus: I mean no disrespect but I don't know how you haven't lost your mind living with the simulation troopers.

Washington: Oh I have.

Locus feels a subtle smile tug at his face.

Locus: I would never have guessed.

Washington: So when are you coming to visit?

Locus: …I was unaware I was welcome.

Washington: You quite literally saved my life.

Locus: Well obviously you don't mind. I'm not sure about the others.

Washington: It's my recovery, I get to call the shots here.

Locus: I don't know if Agent Carolina would agree.

Washington: Fuck her, I want to see you.

Locus refuses to look too deeply into that.

Locus: I assume you won't drop the subject until I agree?

Washington: Got it in one.

Locus: …Very well. I should be able to get there around ten tomorrow morning. The hospital won't mind that I'm in my armor, right?

Washington: If they did, they didn't mention it for the others.

Locus: I don't know how long I'll be able to stay. Not sure how quick the police response is there.

Washington: Oh the staff is in the military's pocket right now. They're being paid to not question anything out of the ordinary.

Locus: I see.

Washington: Car’ is scary effective at getting what she wants.

Locus: I've read the files. I'm well aware.

Washington: I know.

Locus: …And you're alright with me seeing you without your helmet?

Washington: I actually thought you would have gotten ahold of one of my old ID’s by now.

Locus: Only your first service card.

Washington: Oh so you saw baby Wash. It's the one where I look like a startled deer, right?

Locus: Yes. You were twenty if I recall correctly.

Washington: Almost twenty one. But yeah, I don't mind. Try not to be disappointed.

Locus: You've done many things to let me down. Your face would never be one of them.

Locus sends it without thinking. He takes a sharp breath, realizing that it sounded very flirtatious.

Washington: Aw, you've got me blushing, Locs.

Locus: …You're welcome.

He can't believe that worked. He wouldn't have even tried that in the first place. But...it certainly felt nice to not be directly shot down by Wash.

Washington: So tomorrow at ten?

Locus: Yes. I'll be there.

Washington: It's a date, then.

Locus: Rest well, Wash.

Washington: Hey, you remembered not to call me Agent Washington.

Locus: …I didn't even notice.

Washington: Means you're getting used to me.

Locus: I suppose.

Washington: See you soon.

Locus: Until then.

The conversation goes quiet after that. The man feels like he's run a mile. He was perfectly content with the knowledge that Wash was alive. He hadn't anticipated being invited back.

Yet another surprise from the seemingly endless supply that was Wash.

The morning is surprisingly quiet. Locus had called ahead, confirming that he was being expected by the hospital. He wasn't keen on possibly scaring a young resident half to death.

They ask him to dock his ship out back to keep the helipad clear. That was more than reasonable. Locus ducks into the door they requested he use. He's greeted by a familiar face…helmet.

Carolina nods at him. “Punctual.”

He really isn't sure what to say to her. “This was the time we agreed to-”

“I'm aware.” She folds her arms. “Remember. The only reason you're here is because Wash asked for you by name. I'm not going to pretend to be friendly with you.”

“I would be concerned if you did.”

Carolina has started favoring her left leg. Probably still tender from everything they put her through on Chorus. “I do owe you a thanks, though. He would definitely have died without your quick response. Hell you probably saved both of us from starving to death too.”

“There's no need to thank me. It was the right thing to do.” Locus forgot how intimidating this woman was at her best.

“Don't pretend like you would have shown up if Wash wasn't at risk.” She accuses him. “You stopped killing, that doesn't mean you're suddenly a saint.”

“...I can't really argue that.” Despite how much he'd like to.

“I'm here so the others leave you two alone, by the way. Not to scare you off.” Carolina explains. “Anyway, he's ready for you. Just remember that he's still healing. Don't get him over excited.”

“Understood.” Locus waits for Carolina to move so he could enter the room.

It was surprisingly nice for a random hospital in the middle of nowhere. Spacious, with large windows. There's a curtain drawn, though there's no one else in the room.

Well, no one besides Wash.

Locus clears his throat. “It's me.” He greets, moving past the divider.

Oh wow, Wash looks tiny without his armor. He was still muscular, like any special forces operative would be. But he's shorter than anticipated. Being in civilian clothing has a way of making any soldier look strange.

“Good morning, Wash.”

“Morning-” Then he holds up the finger spelling sign for the letter L over his face, making an X motion.

“You gave me a name sign?” Because that was the only thing it could be.

Wash nods, repeating it and pointing at Locus.

“I'll try to remember it.”

Wash points out the chair. “You can take a seat, you know.”

Locus feels awkward. He's totally unused to things like this. A med bay on a military vessel was very different to something like this.

He takes a seat, letting his eyes study Wash’s face.

He could definitely recognize him as the same man that was on the old ID card. Just with many more wrinkles and scars.

“Carolina was guarding the door.” He doesn't know what to say.

“I told her to be nice.” Wash sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“For her? She was.” Locus defends her. “Just made it very clear that I'm here because you invited me.”

“She was furious when I told her. She's convinced you're going to betray me.” Wash sits up a bit. The bandages on his throat were likely the last round before they would let him keep them off.

“It's a fair concern.”

“Before I forget-” Then an unfamiliar sign. The letter T merged with the sign of a barking dog. Understanding that Locus was lost, Wash finger spelt ‘Tucker’. “Tucker wants to see you. Won't tell me why, but he knows that I'll kick his ass if he gives you too much trouble.”

“Anyone else?”

“The others are willing to wait.” Wash explains. “But they expect to see you within the next few months. They don't like it when folks disappear on them.”

“I'm not sure I'll be welcome.” Locus folds his hands in his lap. “I've done quite a number on your soldiers. I wouldn't blame them for resenting me.”

“Yeah, but you have to let them decide that for themselves. Don't just assume they're gonna be ready to rip you to shreds.”

“If you insist.” He nods.

“They welcomed me, didn't they?”

That was true. “That they did…”

The two sit in silence for a while. Eventually, Wash leans over, touching Locus’ shoulder.

“I know we're not sure what to make of one another…I really did want you dead.”

“Likewise.”

A soft smile reaches Wash’s face. It was very charming. “But I think if we weren't enemies…I believe you and I would make good friends.”

“I think you're right.” Based on everything he knew, it was extremely likely.

“I'd like that.”

“To be friends?” Locus wonders.

Wash nods. “It's been…rough. Tucker and the others are wonderful. I really do value them. But there's something that I've been missing. When I lost Maine, he left this…void inside of me. It grew wider when the Meta died.”

Oh.

It doesn't take a detective to figure out who those two name signs were referring to.

“I'm not trying to replace him. I can't. I don't know if I really believe in soulmates…but he was mine.” The man has to pause, his fingers tracing the bandage on his neck.

Locus gently rests his hand on Wash’s wrist. He leaves it there until the man lifts his arms to continue the conversation.

“I don't know why…but being around you helps me feel less hollow.”

What does he even say to that? Locus has never been good with things like this. It feels like he’s paralyzed with indecision. Something must have given him away, because Wash’s nose scrunches up in a way that makes his heart stutter.

Damn it all…this wasn’t just a little crush was it?

He was with Felix for so long, he forgets what this was like. Does he say something? Is he just reading into it?

Calloused fingers tap his hand. Locus glances up at Wash.

“You getting lost in your head?”

Always more observant than Locus presumed.

“A bit.” He lets his eyes roam over the medical equipment, glad that the most dangerous hurdle was behind him. “I’m not…good with conversations.”

“You’re pretty well spoken during combat.” Wash points out.

“That’s different.”

“Because you’re confident in your fighting prowess.” The Freelancer hits the nail on the head. “You would mostly let Felix do the talking.”

“He was a skilled liar.” Locus agrees. “Never gave me the chance to get the hang of it.”

“Good.” Wash smiles, patting the man’s knee. “Kept you more honest.”

Locus lets his impulsive side take over for a moment. He slips a hand over Wash’s. He’s careful to not let his armor pinch the man, squeezing his palm gently.

They stay that way for quite some time. Simply enjoying the company of one another beyond the confines of the battlefield. It was a rarity for folks in their position.

Locus is about to say something when there’s a knock on the door.

Carolina lets herself in, but stays by the entryway. “They’re gonna need to change his dressing in a few minutes. You might want to wrap it up.”

“Thank you, Agent Carolina.” He waits for her to leave before glancing back to Wash. “I know they arranged a deal so we won’t be reported to the authorities.”

The Freelancer nods.

“But I don’t think it’s wise for me to linger in the area. You’ll likely be released in two weeks. Before you say it,, I didn't hack into their systems to see your recovery plan. Just looked into similar cases.” Locus turns his gaze to the window for a moment. “What I’m saying is, I’d prefer you not ask me to come back here.”

When he returns his attention to Wash, the Freelancer shrugs.

“That’s fair. I’m just glad you came.”

Locus gets up, he hesitates before offering a hand for the man to shake.

What he wasn’t expecting was for Wash to yank him into a hug.

Okay, what does he do now? Does he return the gesture? Surely this wasn’t comfortable for the Freelancer. Locus was in full armor, he was heavy he was-

His train of thought derailed when Wash pressed his face into the crook of his neck. This wasn’t like Felix. He was harsh, his thin fingers would dig into Locus’ skin. A reminder of who was really in charge.

Wash was strong, sure. But he was softer in how he moved. Like he was worried about hurting Locus…no. No, he didn’t want to scare him.

…Fuck it.

Locus carefully slips his arms around Wash’s ribs. He makes sure he doesn’t mess with any of the equipment he’s attached to. A gentle pressure, a reminder of simpler times.

A promise.

He felt like he was drowning on dry land.

Wash pulls away, a knowing smirk on his face. “Had a feeling you needed that. You’ve got my number. Don’t bolt on me.”

“...I won’t. I’ll keep in touch.”

“Good. Ask Car’ to take you to see Tucker. Tell me if he’s being a dick.”

Locus sits back, nodding slowly. “I will…and, Wash?”

The man makes it clear he’s listening.

“Thank you…I don’t know where I’d be if you didn’t crash on Chorus.” He gets up, deciding to leave before the medical staff showed up. He can see Wash waving as he goes.

When the door closes, it’s like a bucket of cold water is dumped on him. Carolina wasn’t good (or was unwilling) to mask her distrust of Locus. He definitely couldn’t blame her for that.

“Wash said Tucker wants to see me?” He prompts her.

“Yeah, he might hit you.” She starts walking towards a small waiting room.

“That would be a very foolish choice.” Locus quickly clarifies. “I’m joking.”

He can feel the glare Carolina levels him with.

“My apologies. It was in bad taste.”

“Whatever.” She sighs. “Don’t worry about finding me once you’re done. You can leave.”

Right. That was actually rather kind of her. She’d likely noticed his trouble with ending conversations...Or she was sick of looking at him and wanted the man out of her presence.

Locus ducks into the small room, easily spotting Tucker. He had his helmet off, taking a drink.

The second the soldier notices him, he’s out of his chair like a shot, storming over to Locus.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He jabs a finger at Locus’ chest plate.

What isn’t?

“You just vanished after all that!” Tucker is very much in his personal space. “What if Wash needed you?”

“I would not have left if that was a possibility. I left him with a talented medi-”

“ Dude . I don’t mean physically!” The trooper shoves at Locus’ shoulder. “He was out of his mind from thirst and blood loss. What if he freaked out when he woke up?”

…This wasn’t exactly what he expected from Tucker. “I’m unsure what I could have done in that scenario.”

“That’s what we’ve been telling him.” A familiar voice from the door. This must have been Grif. He’s clearly gone to the corner shop, judging by the snacks. Locus had not been prepared to see so many of them out of armor.

“...I’m still pissed off with you.” Tucker scowls, crossing his arms.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.” Locus gives Grif a small nod, hoping the man understands his gratitude. “I’ve already ensured Wash that I’ll be keeping in contact.”

“Gimme your number.” The aqua soldier demands.

“No.” He states firmly.

“Why the fuck not?” Tucker asks incredulously. 

“I’m a very private person, Captain Tucker. I know how to find you when I need you. I have Wash’s comm’ line. You don’t need mine.” Locus holds up a hand. “No amount of shouting will change that.”

“Good.” Grif grunts between bites of a gas station pizza. “Because I’ve already got a headache. Leave him alone, Blue.”

Tucker looks like he’s about to explode, but he takes a deep breath. “Fine. You wanna be an antisocial bitch, that’s cool. Just-...not knowing what was happening with Wash really got to me.” He admits.

That was totally fair.

“Next time something like this happens, please keep me in the loop.” His voice borders on pleading.

“...If it comes to it, I will.” Locus sighs. “I can promise you that much.”

That seems to soothe Tucker’s rage. He nods to himself, then to Locus. “Good, good…That’s all I needed.”

“Very well.”

“...Thanks man.” Tucker sounds like he’s being held at gunpoint. “I’m not gonna pretend I like you, but you did good.”

“...You’re welcome, Captain.”

The wind whistles as Locus makes his way back to his ship. He welcomes the peace that settles once he seals the door.

He’s got a few jobs he can take nearby to keep him busy.

Things were so quiet without Felix.

Things take an interesting turn when Wash sends him coordinates as well as a time and date.

It’s been getting easier to trust the Freelancer wasn’t leading him into a trap lately. The two rarely went a day without some form of communication in the month since Locus had visited him. Nothing serious. Health updates, interesting missions, or even something as simple as a good morning.

Locus finds he looks forward to hearing from the man.

So he doesn’t think twice about following the instructions left for him.

It was a remote homestead in some kind of nature reserve. Locus didn’t know Wash owned property…well, there was always the chance he’d just broken in.

The Freelancer is on the porch. He’s not wearing anything fancy. A simple hooded jacket and cargo pants. He’s got two mugs, steam wafting from them.

“Hey, Locs.” He greets. His voice is raspy.

Locus knew the man had been working on speech therapy. Seemed to be paying off.

“Wash.” He nods, approaching his-...

Well, Locus isn’t exactly sure what they were right now.

The Freelancer hands him a cup. “You don’t have to drink it, I just need to get the door.”

Right. Of course. Wash didn’t need to see his shoulders tense to know he’d set Locus on edge with that. He has to hunch so his helmet doesn’t clip the frame as he heads inside.

It’s quaint. Comfortable. It suited Wash rather nicely.

There’s a surprising amount of military gear lining the walls. Alongside photos from many different branches, including the Project. So he must have been the owner.

“That’s cider by the way.” Wash sits at the table, sipping his drink. “No alcohol though, sorry. Not a big drinker.”

“Neither am I.” Locus glances at the mug. It did look good… “What did you need?”

“Need?” Wash tilts his head.

“I mean, why did you invite me here?” He clarifies.

“Always to the point, huh?”

“...Is there one?” Locus wonders. "A point, that is?"

“I just wanted to spend time with you.” Wash leans back in his chair. “You’re so skittish, I didn’t think you’d be interested in going to a theater.”

… Oh.

“Plus I’ve been going stir crazy. They won’t clear me for active duty for another month at the soonest.” He continues. “I didn’t want to bother the others…plus I don’t think I’d be comfortable with the sim-troopers being here. Wouldn’t enjoy the clean up from that.”

That makes sense. “Can’t fault you there.”

“But yeah, just make yourself comfortable. I don’t care if you want to keep it on, but you can put your armor in the closet so we don’t trip over anything.” Wash gets up, pointing it out. Then he drifts back to the kitchen, refilling his drink.

…He didn’t have to. Wash was giving Locus an out.

And yet…

Locus sets his mug down, making his way over to the slim door. He opens it, noting the steel and yellow tucked neatly to one side. He doesn’t need to…but something deep down wants to. He wants to meet Wash face to face.

That doesn’t make it simple. It takes him several long moments before Locus slips his helmet off, setting it next to the Freelancers. He can’t bring himself to shed the rest. The man takes a second to fix his hair before returning to the main room.

“Oh wow.” Is the first thing Wash says.

Locus doesn’t know what to do with his face. He’s grown reliant on his visor keeping out prying eyes. He knows his ears get red when he’s embarrassed.

“You’re handsome.” Judging by the way he claps a hand over his mouth, it was clear the Freelancer hadn’t intended to say that out loud. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Locus shakes his head. “And uh…thanks.”

Something in that moment just…clicks into place.

Locus fetches his mug, taking a sip. It was a touch too sweet for him, but the warmth seeps into his weary muscles. He carefully sits on the couch, trying not to knock anything over. They fall into a comfortable silence. He watches Wash going about his day, answering messages, messing around on his phone…just existing.

He trusted Locus.

The feeling was becoming mutual.

“You want to watch something?” Wash asks a few hours later.

“Hm?”

Wash motions towards the small television perched above the fireplace. “I only get a few channels, but I’ve got a bunch of DVDs.”

…This felt like a date.

“...Sure.” Locus nods. He accepts the first suggestion he’s offered. A box set of the Alien series.

Wash takes a bit to find the right remote. With a victorious ‘Ahah!’ he fishes it out from the cushions of the armchair. It doesn’t take long for him to get the rest set up. He hits play, setting the remote down.

“You alright if I make popcorn?”

“It’s your home, Washington-”

“Wash.”

Right. “My apologies. My point still stands. It’s your place. You can do what you want.”

“I figured you’d be sharing. Any preferences? I’ve got a decent spice cabinet if you want to spruce it up.” Wash opens one to the right of the stove top, motioning to it.

“Just do what you would normally.” Locus turns his attention back to the screen, leaving Wash to his preparations.

A few minutes later, he’s handed a bowl as the Freelancer plunks down next to him. He takes a few pieces, remembering how much he used to enjoy this snack.

It’s almost overwhelming. Just over a year ago, he was trying to kill this man. Yet here they were, side by side. Watching a movie of all things. It was just so…domestic.

Soft.

The popcorn doesn’t last very long. Wash sets the bowl on the coffee table, settling back into the cushions.

Locus had been distracted by the film, but freezes when he feels the man lean against his side.

Wash noticed and sat back up, ducking his head. “Sorry. I should have asked.”

“...I don’t mind, but give me a moment.” Locus gets up, going to what he assumes is the bathroom. He was right, closing the door to give him a moment of privacy. Has to shake visions of Felix from his mind. This was different. This was Wash. Locus wanted this. He’d come to terms with it ages ago.

He has an idea.

“Wash?” He hates that his voice cracks.

“What’s up?”

“Do you have anything that fits me?” Locus asks before he can change his mind.

The movie goes quiet, and he can hear the Freelancer pass by the restroom. Things shift around in the room to his right before Wash returns, knocking on the door.

Locus opens it. The man passes him a simple white t-shirt and yellow sweatpants. “Thank you.”

Wash just nods, heading back into the central room.

Locus makes quick work of his armor, deftly unsnapping buttons and pulling belts. His kevlar is a bit more troublesome. Felix used to do this for him. But he manages to get it off. He quietly folds the under suit, setting it aside. Pulling on the clothes, Locus is actually surprised to find they were slightly too big.

That’s when it hits him.

These belonged to Maine.

His heart stutters, stomach twisting. Wash could have just told him it didn’t matter, to just stick to his kevlar…but no. No, he’d given him something his late partner would have worn.

Oh, Wash…

Locus quietly takes his armor to the closet, making sure it wasn’t going to fall before closing the door.

He wishes he didn’t feel so naked without it.

“You doing alright, Locs?”

“I am.” Locus reassures Wash. “I didn't think it would be very comfortable to lean on all that metal.”

“Wait, you’re actually okay with me cuddling you?” Wash seems taken aback.

It felt very strange to hear the word ‘cuddling’ from a man as dangerous as Wash.

“Yes. I’m alright with it.” In fact, he very much wanted it. “I’m just…”

“Used to being a soldier?” Wash guesses.

“Exactly.” Locus nods, returning to his seat. “I honestly don’t recall the last time I did something like this…”

“Well, here’s hoping it becomes a bit more frequent.” Wash picks up the remote, getting the movie going again. “...You sure you don’t mind?”

Locus answers that by wrapping his arm around the man’s shoulders. He pulls Wash flush against his side. “As I said, it’s fine.”

After a second, the Freelancer relaxes. He slots perfectly along Locus’ torso. Warm and pliant.

Felix was all points and hard edges.

Time flows loosely after that. Eventually, Wash has to get up to change the disk. When he returns, he settles a bit higher.

From this angle, Locus can see the scar that marred the man’s throat. Without thinking, he runs his thumb along it.

Wash tenses, eyes flicking towards his ally.

“This should have never happened…” Locus’ voice is soft. Like he’s sharing a secret. “I should have done better. Been faster.”

“Locs…”

“I should have been able to keep you safe.”

“Locus.” There’s a tone of strength in his repetition.

“We can’t pretend it didn’t happen.” He continues tracing over the site.

“Obviously.” Wash agrees. “But we also can’t act like you were the only one to blame.”

Locus doesn’t respond, simply continuing the movement of his thumb.

“Tucker didn’t have to jump into action. You didn’t have to help. None of you had to do anything. That’s war, Locs. Shit happens.” Wash sits up, meeting his gaze. “Do you know how much time I’ve wasted trying to figure out what I could have done to keep Maine from getting shot?”

Locus shakes his head, unable to break eye contact.

“Days, weeks, hell probably months.” Wash catches his breath, trying to stay calm. “But every single time, I would wake up and he still had his scars. It happened. Then Sigma got into his head and made sure I was out of the way. That I wouldn’t interfere. Even if I had spoken up, it wouldn’t have changed things. Maybe he would have died sooner, but by the time I realized what was happening, it was too late.”

Christ…

“So take it from someone who is well too acquainted with things like this.” Wash lifts a hand, cupping Locus’ jaw. “You can’t get caught up in what could have been. Just be better for the future.”

He quietly mirror’s Wash’s gesture, pulling his palm away from the man’s throat, settling it behind his ear. “Thank you.”

That subtle smile ghosts over Wash’s face. “Yeah. I’ve got you.”

He wants to kiss him…

“Locs?”

“Hm?” Locus snaps back to reality.

“You in there? You’ve been staring at me for like…half a minute.” Wash chuckles.

“Sorry. I just-...” Why not? “May I kiss you?”

Wash was clearly not anticipating that. He stutters nervously, before nodding quickly. “Y-yeah! Yeah, I’d like that.”

Locus pulls Wash against his chest. He cradles the back of his head, pressing their lips together. It’s gentle, sweet, and chaste. It felt right .

It was Wash who deepened the kiss. He runs his hands through Locus’ hair, his calloused fingers urging him closer.

They eventually have to come up for air.

Wash has a bright smile, placing his forehead to Locus’. “You’re so polite.” He chuckles. “Here I was thinking I was gonna have to rein you in.”

“I don’t typically enjoy kissing.” Locus confirms.

“Same. That was nice, though.” Wash lays his head on the man’s shoulder.

“Yes…it was.”

He might not fully understand Wash…but Locus isn’t sure he cares anymore. As long as they had this, he didn’t need to figure things out.

That was more than enough for him.