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As the sun rose up over the icy ocean, Nevada wiped at her dull green eyes and kicked her armour-clad feet into the sand. She turned her head slowly, and her gaze met the grey-blue eyes of her former partner. Agent Washington.
Wash. Nevada let the nickname roll through her mind as she blinked at the tan man standing around twenty feet away from her. She left her gaze there, connected with his as he started to walk forward; grey and yellow MJOLNIR armour sparkling in the dawn glow.
Nevada sniffled quietly as she allowed herself to admire the soldier’s face. Washington’s hair was bleach-blonde, spiked up on the top and buzzcut on the sides. His face was littered with a mix of scars from previous battles, and freckles; his eyes tired from the events of the day. Washington held his Mark VI military grade helmet under his left arm, assault rifle in the other as he finally stopped beside Nevada.
He turned his head to break their staring, looking out at the crisp ocean waves of early morning. Nevada turned as well, her eyes surveying a far off lighthouse that seemed to sparkle in the dawn-light.
Silence. Then, “You killed him.”
Washington’s voice was weak and tired when he spoke, and his words startled the brunnette out of her thoughts. His voice was deeper than when they had fought side-by-side in Project Freelancer some ten years ago. He was wiser.
Nevada watched Wash in her peripheral vision, staying silent.
“Why did you kill him, Nev?” Wash’s voice was tight, and he turned his head to look at Nevada. She could see the quiet rage that swirled within his eyes, and her stomach twisted in regret and guilt as her old nickname rolled from his lips mockingly.
Nevada took a deep breath before replying with, “ I didn’t mean too.”
“Well Legend sure seems to think you did,” his voice cracked halfway through his sentence, and Nevada could see frustrated tears pricking at his steely eyes.
“She never let me explain what happened, David.”
“Don’t say my name. You’re not allowed to say my name.”
Nevada took a deep shuddering breath at his harsh words, and held in her quiet tears. She stayed silent as Wash turned his whole body towards her and gripped her shoulders. They would bruise later, but she didn’t care. He was touching her and that was all that mattered right now.
“Look, Wash. . . I-I didn’t know what the director was doing. . . I thought Oregon was the bad gu-”
“That doesn’t mean you had to kill him!” Wash yelled, letting a short burst of anger flow through and throwing his helmet and rifle into the sand. He turned away from Nevada now, his hands clenched in tight fists; knuckles white.
“It was an accident, Wash. . .!” Nevada pleaded. She knew this day would come, but she never wanted it to happen. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want this much hatred pointed at her by the one person she kept herself alive for. She had never wanted this.
Nevada turned and grabbed Washington’s wrist, trying to make him look at her. Wash ripped his arm away, finally allowing his tears to slide down his freckled cheeks. He took a deep breath, and wiped away the small droplets of water that had stained his tan face.
“I-I. . . I know you probably didn’t mean to, but you did. He’s gone and you killed him,” Wash said, his voice firm and powerful as he turned to look at the shorter woman beside him.
“You did something bad, Nevada. Something unacceptable. I don’t know. . . I don’t know if Legend or Ohio or. . . I . . . can forgive you. . .” His voice stayed rigid as he spoke, but his eyes softened as he watched Nevada.
Nevada was holding her breath. She was numb and didn’t register the next sentence Wash had said until he was walking away. She took a deep breath and let out a loud wail; falling down into the sand.
Her face twisted and she squeezed her eyes shut. Fat, wet tears dripped down her ivory cheeks, and she ran her fingers through her chestnut hair helplessly. Numb. All she could feel was numbness.
How could this have happened? She loved Wash. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to see each other again, and he was supposed to kiss her or something. But that hadn’t happened. Legend and Ohio -former members of the same military program she used to be in- had been there. Wash was different. Everything was different.
Nevada covered her round face with her small doll-like hands, and continued to sob grossly. Her fingers were cold, her whole body was cold, and she replayed the events of over ten years ago.
She had shot him. She was never very good with a gun, and in her haste to find Agent Washington, she had aimed for his shoulder and shot. She had missed, of course, the bullet piercing the red-haired man’s chest-plate. He had fallen to the floor, half dead, and Nevada had dropped her military-grade pistol; hands shaking.
That was when Legend and Ohio had run in. She could still hear the loud screaming, and the rage and loathing that had clouded Legend’s eyes as Ohio yelled at her to go.
Nevada let out a small whimper, calming down from her hysterical sobbing. She rubbed at her eyes roughly and stood up. The sun was over the bright shining waves now, the sky fading from black into a light baby blue.
Nevada counted her breaths, trying to calm herself as she quietly grabbed her helmet out of the sand and slid it back on. She brushed the sand off of her blue and orange-detailed armour, and started walking towards the opposite end of the canyon, where the Red Team stayed.
As she made her way across the canyon, Nevada replayed the words Wash had said to her; body stiff and eyes red and puffy.
“I think it’d be best for both of us, if we didn’t talk for a while.”
Deep breath, Vegas. New day.