Agent North Dakota | Andrew Engelsen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bothbarrels) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hexaflexagons2021-03-15 09:26 am
bothbarrels) wrote in hexaflexagons2021-03-15 09:26 amEntry tags:
bothbarrels) wrote in hexaflexagons2021-03-15 09:26 am
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South grinds her teeth together so hard it almost hurts.
Several responses to that question come to mind, but none of them are good answers—answers that won't give up the game, or make her sound like even more of a rotten bitch than she is, or worse, gets into bullshit she doesn't want to touch with a ten foot pole.
So, she swerves around most of the question, instead.
"I expect you to fucking talk to me before making big fucking choices, North. Don't fucking make this about why I 'don't want to help' someone. This is about you never. fucking. asking me. shit. Today of all fucking days, too. You're a fucking parody of yourself."
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Especially since Wash has been listening the whole time.
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She blinks at him, jaw slightly ajar. Honestly, she's not sure why she's surprised, of course he just fucking deflects it instead of actually saying anything of fucking value and then puts this right back on her—agree, or be the bad guy.
"You'll keep it— god, you're fucking insufferable. You know that? You can't just— listen to me, can you, you've gotta pull this shit. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that, huh? Fine, congratu-fucking-lations, you win! But if he stabs us in the back? It's on you."
She stuffs her mouth with food before she can say anything else she'll regret, but she's practically quaking with rage.
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"... Can we go back to the part where I haven't actually agreed to anything except to not stab anyone in the back when this is all over?"
He still hasn't taken his helmet off, and he kind of doesn't want to, what with the sparks that're flying. Someone might still throw something. The way his face spasms each time South waves 'backstabbing' around might become visible.
"As far as any of us are concerned, I'm still going back to command after this."
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"See? You're practically making decisions on his behalf, too. You can't fucking help yourself."
No, she's not letting it go. No, she's not going to directly address Washington when she can just snipe at North again, instead.
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"Okay, okay, I misinterpreted."
He looks at Wash.
"Why would you want to go back to them? You remember they're the ones who gave you Epsilon, yes?"
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Having South agree with him feels like sand down the back of his undersuit: uncomfortable. Having North ask those questions while Theta is listening, after everything that happened--
--Wash was already standing, but he's ready to move, and he wants to do something. He wants to throw something back at either of them, something that he'll probably regret but that they'll regret more.
"You understand what it's like to have reasons, don't you, South?"
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South has to make a conscious effort not to hiss.
Her eyes flick briefly into her periphery to look at North, to see how he’s looking at her, and thank fuck she doesn’t see immediate suspicion. So she glares at Washington, pointed and just fucking daring the motherfucker to push his luck when she’s still got a rifle in reach.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, asshole? See, we have one fucking argument in front of him where you make me into the bad guy and he starts spinning cryptic bullshit. And I’m supposed to just trust him? Yeah, right.”
She rolls her eyes and stuffs another forkful of food into her mouth, glad that her armour hides how white-knuckle her grip is. If he fucking tries anything…
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"We all had our reasons for sticking around as long as we did," North says. "That's all over now."
He digs his fork into his rice and beans, but just stirs it around rather than lifting a forkful to take a bite. He feels agitated now.
"I hope that you know what you're doing. That's all."
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He feels strangely like he's just dodged a bullet, what with the way he jabbed at that sleeping lion and didn't get immediately torn to shreds. He should quit while he's ahead.
After a moment Wash pops the seal on his helmet, carefully removing it one-handedly, setting it down on the ground by his feet. Then he scoops up the first taste of meatloaf that he's had in years, then pauses as the flavors fully hit.
(It's better than he remembered. That's a pleasant change.)
He stays quiet for a while, concentrating on eating, and by the time he finally speaks again there's not much left.
"Not that I'm trying to pry, or anything, but--Is this what you two've been doing this whole time?" Against his better judgment, Wash lifts his fork to sweep the area around them, not really watching. He doesn't want to know for their sakes, and this might well just trigger another argument, but--he is curious.
Considering the Meta, considering that Wash might go his own way after this, this might be his last chance asking.
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South doesn’t break the silence Wash leaves, focused on her own food, and it’s a damned fucking shame when he decides to speak up again. She rolls her eyes, picks at something stuck in her teeth with the point of her fork.
“Doing what, asshole? Arguing, or squatting like losers whenever we need to sleep or eat?” Her expression and tone are flat, but edged with annoyance. “The fuck do you care?”
She spits to her side. Sets her finished meal aside. Leans back on her hands and blows hair out of her face.
Two straight years of this shit, and thirty more that keep her here every time she’s thought about leaving. Thirty more that mean she couldn’t have even threatened North with ‘it’s him, or me’, in that fight, because they both know she’s not going anywhere.
She deliberately doesn’t actually answer his question. North can do this buddy buddy small talk bullshit if he wants, but she’s not going to.
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"Just wondering what North was inviting me into." He scoops another forkful into his mouth, then keeps talking. "Life on the run must not be all it's cracked up to be."
It's probably a more disparaging dig than North warrants, but he's in range for the verbal collateral right now. And really, just because the man tried to recruit him now, after all this time, does that really mean Wash should pull his punches?
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"You talk like we took off for the heck of it." He shakes his head. "Really, Wash. You know what they're doing, don't you?"
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He wants to say it. Hell, he's probably already saying it with his eyes alone, and he jerks his face away from the two of them, because if South reports back just how much Wash hates Command, his game'll be up faster than he can say 'prison cell'.
Fuck that. He hates Project Freelancer, but he's trying to be smart about it.
"What I know is that now you're both homeless fugitives with an illegal AI unit you both have to hide, and every major force in the galaxy after your heads."
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"I'm saying that if it wasn't for me, you and your moral superiority would be dead tomorrow."
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Watching North turn his pestering tendencies on someone else is the most entertaining thing she's seen in a long, long time. Not nice to be on the receiving end of, is it, Washington?
She's not really paying much attention to what they're saying, though the things North emphasizes strikes her as a little weird. Where the AI came from? The fuck is he talking about? They're copies, right? ...weird.
"Fucking hell, Washington, stop being so goddamned dramatic about our supposed imminent doom for like five fucking seconds, would you?"
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He breaks off, biting his tongue. He kind of is, maybe the tiniest bit. If the Blues were here they'd call him on it.
"This is serious," He insists, then realizes how dramatic that could be taken, and fumes over it inwardly.
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"When the Meta gets here, we'll be ready. That's thanks to you."
What the rest of it means, he's not so willing to be forthright with.
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He looks at either of them, then picks up his helmet, cramming it over his head onehandedly. His meal's trash gets wadded up and pitched towards an overflowing trash-barrel.
"I'm going to scout the area. If anything happens, com me."
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South just rolls her eyes and neither of them stop him. She doesn't say a word to North, just picks at the remains of her food. This is like the longest evening of her life.
She doesn't sleep particularly well. She figures Wash doesn't either. But there's no real choice but to try, even if it means laying awake with your eyes open behind a visor half the time. The hours tick by and eventually they're awake again, they break out more MREs, sit through more awkward silence and poor attempts at conversation, until—assuming Wash isn't bullshitting—the Meta should be closing in on them.
South doesn't actually like the fact North's bait. Sure, her own plan wasn't totally dissimilar, but this is different. This isn't her plan, and Wash is here, and... it's just different.
"You die before you get it back to us and I swear to god, North, I'll revive you just to kick your ass."
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It's not long after South and Wash hide when North notices the first signs of the Meta approaching. A strange growl, and the sound of boots shuffling along the concrete.
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He tried to keep busy. Planning, double checking plans, wondering what his friends are doing (if they're alive), sending cryptic warnings he suspects won't make a difference to people that haven no reason to trust him, planning...
... Morning comes as a relief. He barely tastes the protein bar he crams down, and when the time finally comes, Wash is ready.
He gives North a nod as the man leaves, then sends a long look at South's helmet as they withdraw from view. He doesn't think she's going to stab anyone in the back before the Meta dies, but really, it pays to be prepared.
They wait. Wash knows what to listen for, and when he finally sees a tall, bright set of armor, he touches the side of his helmet.
His voice is low, as though the Meta could possibly hear straight through their secure channel.
"Target spotted coming in from the East. I'm moving in."
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She's still not 100% convinced this isn't all some trick or exaggeration from Washington until it becomes impossible to accept that it isn't: the Meta's actually fucking here, and she had no idea it was this close until Washington appeared.
What. The. Fuck. It wasn't supposed to be this close, it was miles away based on the last report. There's no way she would've been...
Nope. Not thinking about her plan right now. Time to think about this one. Even if she has to cooperate with goddamned fucking Washington to do so.
"Copy that. Moving into position."
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