lydlos | agent york open post

The loss of Epsilon had hit her hard, harder than she'd honestly expected and Carolina had left the army headquarters as soon as they'd landed, disappeared into the wilderness of the planet.

Because she needed the time, the space to try to cope and seeing everyone else wasn't going to do a damn thing to fix what was going on inside her head. She'd never coped with loss well and while she planned to return, there were things that she needed to handle on her own.

And her temper wasn't something she wanted to inflict on the rest of the residents, but she'd at least left word she'd be returning.

At some point.

Still, the temples provided places for her to at least look over, sometimes even use for shelter if they were accessible.

Damn. This temple's empty too. It's the third one he's tried so far in his two weeks on this planet, and he'd by lying if he said it isn't frustrating him. Moving further into the temple despite the fact he's sure he won't find anything, York releases a harsh breath. So far he's found none of these supposedly valuable artifacts he's been hired to find, and he's starting to get just the tiniest bit concerned about what might happen if he comes off this planet completely empty-handed.

He needs the money. Since he'd read about Carolina and Wash shutting down whatever had remained of Project Freelancer, he hasn't had to lay low, which meant he could pick up less discrete jobs. Meaning he's less likely to struggle to get himself necessities for living. Doesn't mean he's remotely well off, but it's been easier to come across cash than before. If he can't deliver on this job, though... Well, he'll be back in that moneyless situation again.

It's occurred to him to try to find Wash and Carolina. A lot. He misses the both of them and it'd be great to see them again. ...But he has no idea where they are at this point. And he hasn't exactly had the means to travel very far unless on a job, so there hasn't been any kind of possibility. It's just been some little fantasy.

"Nothing," he notes to himself under his breath once he's explored every inch of the temple. Great. Glancing at the time on his HUD, York debates whether or not he might be able to make it to the next temple before nightfall, or if he should just call it a day and shelter here for the night. He's in the middle of the decision when he hears the footsteps echoing through the halls. Standing straighter, he freezes up. Shit. He has no idea if he's technically trespassing or not, but he's been running on the assumption that since he's technically here to steal shit, it's probably better to not run into anyone.

Instead of just standing there for whoever it is to find him, York ducks off to hide behind a wall. He stays there, listening for the footsteps to enter the room. Once they do, he chances a glance around the corner, figuring that if he's quick and careful, he might be able to make his way out at some point. This plan drops, however, when he sees the colour of the armour the other person is wearing.

"...Carolina?" The question slips out before he can stop himself. The armour is different, just a bit, but that colour... It's gotta be her, right? He edges out from behind the wall, just staring at her, the possibility of this not being her not even occurring to him. "Jesus."

Carolina's actually gotten better at dealing with the unexpected but there are some things that there's no preparing for.

This is one of those things. When she hears her name, for a moment, she's half convinced she imagined it because that's the last voice she ever expected to hear again.

But the way he says her name, it's enough to have her turning and then she's just standing there, frozen, her eyes taking in the armor, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

It has to be some kind of sick joke. The temple playing with her head but she takes a slow step forward anyway.

"You're supposed to be dead."

In the silence that follows, York steps the rest of the way out from behind the wall, encouraged by the way she's staring at him. Yeah, has to be her. No one else would pause like that after hearing her name and...hearing his voice. He's sure she's in shock. He's...kind of been playing dead for a long damn time.

But hell, it's really good to hear her voice again. Even if the words are less than encouraging.

"Yeah." Nodding, he takes a couple steps forward, but he doesn't get too close yet. The last thing he wants is to spook her even further. Arms spreading a bit, York rolls his shoulders in a shrug. "But I'm not. Just had to make it seem that way." Which, he knows, isn't the best excuse in the world. But it's the only one he's got. It wasn't like he'd had much choice after the Mother of Invention went down, or after all the shit that had come later.

Things are different now, though. He doesn't have to pretend to be dead anymore, and he can be here, standing in front of her for the first time in years. It hadn't been intentional, sure, but he thinks there's something about that which makes the situation even better.

Carolina watches him walk out before she lifts her hands, removing her helmet once he's clear of the wall.

"So how did you get away from Wyoming, then? I know Wash retrieved Delta and destroyed your armor where you'd left it." Focus on the details and not the fact that you're glad to see him. Because at the moment, she's still technically supposed to be investigating the temples.

"And if you've been here all this time, why didn't you come to us...?" Her and Wash, at least.

The call from Carolina is a little bit of a surprise and he catches a ride out to the temple, although it takes a few hours. Arriving has him eyeing the building before he moves into the temple and just stops dead in his tracks when he actually sees who's standing there with Carolina

And there's a moment where he can't quite breathe because it's been years since he'd had to dispose of York and it had been one of the nightmares that still haunts him and then he sucks in a slow breath.

And Carolina's gone a moment later, leaving them alone as Wash lifts his hands, removing his helmet as soon as she's out of sight.

And hopefully earshot.

"York?" And he hates the catch in his voice, how unsure he sounds. He's worked so hard to get away from that, to be something more, but when he comes face to face with his past, all of it just falls away.

And he's really not sure he can even believe his eyes, but Carolina had seen York too, right? That meant he had to be real.

It's rough, to put things lightly, when Wash actually shows up. Anticipating his arrival had been challenging enough, but actually seeing him again? Even in his different armour and with his helmet still on? It's so much harder. And then Carolina's gone and Wash is pulling his helmet off and shit, York isn't sure how to react.

It's been way too long. And he hates that he'd had to make the guy think he was dead. But he hadn't had much of a choice...

"Yeah, man." He nods once, his own words coming out on a breath. It fucking hurts hearing Wash's voice like that. There's a moment of hesitation, but soon enough, York's hands are reaching up and tugging his own helmet off, too. Weakly, he offers a half-smile, his good eye searching the other man's face for a moment. "'S good to see you."

And for a moment all he can see is the sight of York's armor on the ground, the way he'd had to choke everything down and take care of it and then he's back in the present and he's moving before he's even really aware of it.

And he's got a hand out, gloved fingers just touching the armor York's wearing now, just to know it's really there, that it's solid.

"...You...I mean, I your armor..." Jesus Christ, Wash, pull yourself together.

"I don't..."

Oh, come on, Wash, don't do that... The other's reaction is still blindingly painful and guilt-inducing, and York knows he fucking deserves it, but still... Wash can't seem to get out a full sentence, maybe doesn't even know he's sure if what he's seeing is real, and it's killing York slowly.

"It's real," he responds after a moment of Wash just touching his armour like he's checking it's actually there. Bringing his free arm around, York rests his hand over the other man's gauntlet, then slowly slides it up until he's got a grip on Wash's hand. Giving it a squeeze, he just hopes some contact in return will help the guy accept things. "I'm real. Promise."

"You..you were dead. I couldn't..." York's hand closing around his even through th glove is solid enough to have him choking on a breathe, his throat closing. And fuck, he's not going to break down, not in front York.

Not like this.

But he lifts his head, his eyes meeting York's one good eye. "You've been alive? All this time?" And no word or sign or any kind of ...

Any kind of anything.

"I.." Breathe Wash.

"Yeah," he replied, but there's regret slathered thickly on the word. He knows where this is going, and he's worried it might lead to a fight, which is the last thing he wants, considering this is his first time back with Wash in years. When you figured you weren't going to see someone ever again, you kind of want the moment that you actually do to go well. ...But maybe that's a little selfish, since Wash has full rights to yell at him and hate him.

"I'm sorry, Wash." York continues, genuine apology in his tone and in his expression as he peers down at the other man. That's the first thing he needs to say, and already it feels like he's going to need a lot more apologies to really make a dent his own guilt. "I'm really sorry. I didn't think that..." ...That Wash would be the recovery agent they'd send. That'd he'd have to be the one be the one blowing up that corpse that he thought...belonged to his boyfriend.

He's shaking his head slowly, his hand flexing under York's for a moment before he takes a shaky step back, his control already all but shattered and his mind rebelling. York was dead, he'd been there, he'd checked the armor and this...

"..I don't... I can't.." His voice broke this time, the sound he made somewhere between a gasp and a strangled sob. "This isn't... I said goodbye... I took you and then there was North and South and Maine and you're all dead..."

And he'd done it. He'd been the one who'd...

"..I can't..."

"Whoa whoa whoa, Wash--" He doesn't like when Wash recoils, but what he likes less are his reactions, that inability to form sentences, and... Shit. Maybe it would have been better if he'd never run into Carolina in the first place... Maybe they were all better off with him pretending to be dead...

"I know, Wash, I know. And I'm sorry you had to see that, had to do that..." York trails off warily, unsure of what more he can add. He hesitates some more, just watching Wash stepping back from him, listening to him fumbling along... He's gotta do something. Something for both of them--try to settle the emotions down so they can actually talk. Maybe eventually even be happy to be around one another again.

It's without much thought that York steps forward, drops his helmet to the floor be his feet, and then practically throws his arms around Wash's back, pulling the other ex-freelancer in to a hug. They could both use one right about now, he thinks.

The hug ends up being the only thing keeping him standing, Wash all but sagging against the other Freelancer, and he almost doesn't seem aware of what's going on because all he's seeing are the images.

All of them dying, over and over again, his eyes staring at what seems to be nothing. "..No, no, no....I didn't...I tried... I'm not like that... It wasn't me.

I don't..." He's shaking, even if he's not aware of it, his body quaking inside his armor and he's trying to claw his way out of the memories, the flood threatening to overwhelm him.

"...It's not real, it's not real," The words are like a mantra falling from his lips, and he just needs it to stop.

Fuck. This is officially getting worse and worse. Definitely should have stayed dead if it's bringing Wash to...this.

Glad to have at least caught him before he managed to drop himself to the floor, York doesn't mind accepting the brunt of the other man's weight. If anything, he hugs him tighter--or as tight as he can with both of them still in armour. One hand sliding up over Wash's shoulder, it only comes to a rest at the back of the younger man's head, just cradling him gently. Carefully. And with great concern.

"It's not real, Wash." York starts repeating the words with him, hoping that an outside voice might help him more. Meanwhile, the hand on the back of Wash's head just starts gently running through his hair, rubbing at his head softly, pulling him in as close as possible. "It's not. It's not real, okay?"

And it takes time, it takes more time than he'd probably be willing to admit, but he slowly starts to still, his breathing slowing from rapid gulps to something approaching normal and his vision starts clearing.

And he's becoming more aware, the feel of fingers sliding through his hair distracting him and then..

"...York?...You're really here?" It's barely a whisper but it actually sounds like Wash and not whatever it was that had a hold of him since he'd first laid eyes on the other Freelancer.

"This is real, right?" Because he wants to believe it and he lifts a hand, glove coming to rest against his cheek, even brushing against the scar on his face.

"...You feel real.."

"Yeah, Wash. I'm really here." York gives another nod, glancing down at Wash now while continuing to hold him in the hug. He's not about to let go just yet, but it's good that the guy seems to be coming around from...whatever that had just been. Still, York finds it easier to slip a stronger smile over his lips as he peers down at Wash.

"It's very real," he continues, just wanting to assure the other man as much as he needed. And, that hand on his face? York's plenty okay with that. Even tilts his head into it a bit, holding on to his smile. A short laugh even manages to break out, and though it doesn't last long at all, it's...good, he thinks. It doesn't seem like they're going to fall into another crisis, and that maybe...thing'll get better.

"I should hope so. I'm not a ghost, Wash. I can assure you that I'm very real."

"I've mostly stopped seeing things that aren't." After a moment. "And Carolina was here, so..." He took a slow breath and after a few moments, Wash straightened looking York in eye as he regained control of himself.

"How the hell did you even.?! I checked your armor, you asshole."

When he feels Wash starting to move some more, York reluctantly pulls his hands back to himself--for now, he tells himself. Finding his good eye met with Wash's gaze, York's about to ask him if he's feeling better, but then--...Then that question comes, and he's getting the feeling that Wash is settling back in to normal.

Yeah. Uh. He knows he deserves getting shit, and everything, but he'd been kind of hoping for a bit of happiness and affection before they got into it. Apparently, that's not happening.

"It's complicated. You didn't check who was inside the armour, though. I'm guessing, anyway, since then you'd have know that wasn't actually me." York answers, just being as honest as he can while also trying to appear as guilty as he feels. Because he really does feel like shit for having to pull that. "Long story short? I grabbed one of the other dead solders and had D make it look like the armour was the right colour."

That's another thing he regrets. Delta. But he'd needed to drop off the grid, he had to be dead, so...leaving him with that dead body was the only thing he could do, really. Even if he hated it.

"I'm sorry, Wash. I really am." He apologizes again, holding his hands out a little from his sides, almost like in a shrug but in more of a 'what do you want me to say' type of gesture. "It's not the way I wanted things to go."

"Yeah, well, I had enough dead people in my head." A little bitterly. "I didn't want to have to actually see your face in that state, York. It was all I could do to keep it together when I was detonating your armor." And the nightmares after that had been hell.

But he'd gotten through it. Wash rubs a hand over his face.

"...Not that I'm not glad you're alive."

"I really didn't think they'd end up sending you, man. I mean, the last time I'd seen you..." York trails off, hesitant to go into that. Considering the last time he'd seen Wash had been...after Epsilon. And he just hadn't thought that at that time, Wash would have recovered.

But, apparently, he had. Given that he'd been the one to find the body, and all.

"...'M so sorry, Wash." Shaking his head, York runs a slightly awkward hand through his hair. This has definitely not been the reunion he's been fantasizing about, but...it's still better than not being back with Wash, he thinks. "But I damn well hope you're glad I'm alive. It'd be awfully rude to turn me away, don't'cha think?" He chances a smile again, one to go along with the...well, it's not really a joke, and it's not really teasing, either. Maybe some combination of the two, or something.

"It's done with, York, and it's not like it matters now." He sounds more tired tha not but he's bending to pick his helmet back even if he's not putting it on yet, his gaze lingering on York.

"...You've got a lot of time to make up for, and if you're coming back to base, we're kind of limited on space anyway so some of us have had to share.

You're in luck though. There's a vacancy in my room." Because he didn't sleep enough to really bother with it.

That's...not what he's been expecting. He figured there would be more...anger over it. But maybe it's been long enough that Wash has just...moved on?

Leaning over to collect his own helmet, mirroring Wash's actions since he's guessing that means they're leaving, York listens as he straightens back up. Hmm... Convenient vacancy in Wash's room? He's more than okay with that.

"Luck has always been on my side," he quips, taking a step or two closer to Wash. For a second, York just watches the other man's face, not sure if what he wants to do is really all that welcome yet, but... Sue him, it's been years and he fucking missed the guys. So yeah, leaning in, he tries to catch Wash's lips for a gentle kiss.

And honestly, he's kind of been waiting for that, and debating on going for it himself, but after the incident, it was more to see if York was even still interested given he'd gotten a taste of exactly what Wash had become.

Thanks to the Project.

Still, he's kissing back almost as soon as York's lips find his own and York tastes almost the same as he remembers. "...Guess that answers the next question." a little more quietly once they separate.

"...Do it again, York."

Ahh, thank god. Thank all the gods he doesn't believe in. It's actually amazing to have Wash with him again, and even better to know that it's still okay for him to do this. To kiss him. Because you're damn right he missed this, too.

A slight smirk quirks at York's lips at Wash's comment, and he doesn't move back away from the other man's face. He wants to go back in for another one, so it's good to hear that Wash wants it, too.

"Demanding. I like it." Half his lips still curled in a smirk, York moves back in through the small space between their faces to once again capture Wash's lips. And this time, he puts more pressure into it, tries to show Wash just how much he's missed him and that yeah, his interest in the guy has never waned, not even over all this time. It's grossly cheesy, but he doesn't really care all that much right now.

And it's like no time has passed even if it's only for the span of the kiss, Wash stepping closer if that's possible, his lips parting under York's as he kisses back.

"There's an abandoned village near here." Once the kiss is broken. "It's got some intact houses and it was clear when we flew over." Because if they went back to the base now, he'd have to field questions.

Ones he didn't want to answer.

Not yet.

"It's a bit of a hike."

Watching the fight had been one thing, but when the grenade went off, Wash had had a moment where he just froze, gaze on York through the window before he was moving, heading down to the floor. Carolina had called for the medics and Wash only left after they'd been dismissed.

And once York was out of surgery, it was North and Wash who were there to wait for him to wake up, although North got pulled away for a meeting leaving Wash alone there.

"Jesus..."

Finally coming around, the first thing he takes note of? The massive headache he has going on, all on the left side of his head. Before his eyes even open, York has a hand resting against his head like that might do something to ease the pain. He's confused for a few seconds, trying to figure out why everything hurts, but it does come back to him and gives him a pretty good reason for what he's feeling.

That training match against the new recruit, Texas. Wyoming and Maine...bringing in live rounds. A grenade, some paint bullets, and then...nothing.

Eyes fluttering open, the first thing he notices is actually the lack of something. That being the vision on his left side. He's missing half of the range he can normally see in, and that quickly has him shoving himself up into a seated position, looking at his hands, blinking hard, trying to get things working properly again. But obviously, nothing changes.

"Shit," he curses to himself, good eye finally darting off to the side when he realizes there's someone here with him. Gaze settling on Wash, York wonders fleetingly how long he's been out, but decides to ask something else. "Did they ruin my good looks?"

It's a joke, mostly. Joking makes dealing with things easier, right? ...Right?

The movement has Wash shifting to his feet, watching York for a moment before the question comes and he can't quite hide the relieved smile on his face, because if York can joke, he's going to fine.

"...You need anything? I can get a nurse." totally not answering the question.

agent york open post

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Freelancer, post Tex sparring.

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