oldercommander!abby x reader
**THIS IS AN AU SOME EVENTS IN THIS WILL NOT MATCH THE ORIGINAL GAME STORYLINE**
You returned to your barracks that night with a knot of unease sitting heavily in your stomach.
The interrogations had already begun.
Group A had been called first. At first, everyone had assumed it would be routine questioning, another tedious military exercise designed to keep everyone nervous and compliant. Then the soldiers started returning.
Some came back with dark bruises blooming beneath their sleeves and along their jaws. Others looked worse. They carried no visible injuries at all, yet something behind their eyes had changed. Rumors spread quickly through the barracks. Stress positions. Sleep deprivation. Simulated drowning. Waterboarding that instructors dismissed as "controlled exposure." Whatever had happened inside those rooms, it was enough to leave grown soldiers pale, withdrawn, and unwilling to speak about it.
You saw them around camp afterward. Men and women who normally joked during meals now sat in silence, staring into their trays. Conversations died when certain names were mentioned. Nobody knew exactly what was happening, but everyone knew enough to be afraid.
The tension settled over the base like a storm cloud.
By the time Group C was scheduled, nobody was pretending to be brave anymore.
Every passing day felt like another step toward an execution you couldn't avoid. You spent the hours waiting in a state of constant anticipation, listening for footsteps outside your door, wondering if each voice in the hallway was coming for you.
It had also been several weeks since you'd seen Abby.
That somehow made everything worse.
You hated how often your thoughts drifted toward her. Hated how easily your mind abandoned the interrogations, the fear, the uncertainty, only to circle back to the memory of her face. Every time you thought about her, a restless heat spread beneath your skin. It left you distracted and irritated with yourself.
You told yourself it didn't matter.
You told yourself you didn't care.
Neither lie lasted very long.
A sharp knock echoed through your barracks room.
Your stomach tightened immediately.
For a moment you simply stared at the door before forcing yourself to move. The walk across the room felt strangely long. When you finally pulled it open, disappointment hit before you could stop it.
Owen stood on the other side.
You curled your lip slightly.
His expression remained flat as he let out a slow breath. "You've been called for questioning."
The words settled heavily between you.
You swallowed, already feeling your pulse begin to climb.
"Okay," you said quietly.
There wasn't really anything else to say.
You walked with him towards the elevators. Slowly your boots echoed on the ground. You tried to keep your breath steady.
The elevator rattled softly as it climbed through the building.
You stood near the back wall with your hands shoved into your pockets, watching the glowing numbers change one by one above the doors. Your stomach had been tight since Owen collected you from your barracks, and the feeling only worsened as the elevator finally slowed.
Your eyes immediately drifted toward the hallway leading to her barracks.
The thought appeared before you could stop it.
The question irritated you the moment it surfaced. You didn't want to care. You especially didn't want to care after the way she'd left things between you. Yet your gaze lingered for another second before you forced yourself to look away.
You lowered your eyes to the floor and followed Owen down the corridor.
The familiar scent of paperwork, coffee, and old metal filled the administrative wing. Soldiers moved through the hallways carrying folders and radios, their conversations hushed beneath the weight that had settled over the base since the investigations began.
When Owen pushed open the office door, disappointment hit you immediately.
You stepped inside anyway and dropped into one of the metal chairs positioned across from the desk. The seat was cold beneath you.
Owen closed the door behind him.
For several seconds neither of you spoke.
Your gaze wandered across the room. Abby's desk. Abby's chair. Abby's coffee mug sitting near a stack of reports.
Everything smelled like her.
Everything except the fact that she wasn't actually there.
"Where's Abby?" you asked, tilting your head.
Owen's mouth tightened. "This wasn't an opportunity for the two of you to reconcile."
You let out a sharp laugh. "Reconcile?" The word sounded ridiculous.
Owen rubbed a hand across his jaw before lowering himself into Abby's chair. "Where were you on the night of July tenth?"
Then laughed again. "Abby's bed."
Not dramatically. Just for a brief moment, as if he regretted asking before the question had even left his mouth.
You leaned back in your chair. "Why can't I see her?"
A sigh escaped him. "You'll distract her."
You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. "Whatever."
The answer annoyed you more than it should have.
You folded your arms across your chest. "I want to be moved back—"
"No." The interruption came instantly.
"Not until we find the mole."
You shifted in your seat, irritation bubbling higher.
"It's probably somebody on rations," you muttered.
Owen's head snapped up. "Excuse me?"
You shrugged. "Yeah." You gestured vaguely toward the window. "They monitor everything that goes in and out. They're outside the walls more than anyone else." You rolled your eyes. "Seems pretty obvious."
For a moment Owen simply stared at you.
The silence stretched long enough to become uncomfortable.
His gaze settled on something atop Abby's desk.
You hated how often people did that when they were thinking about her.
You cut him off immediately. "Why would they give themselves up?"
The conversation died again.
You shifted restlessly in your chair and glanced around the office once more. Every second spent in this room without Abby somehow made you more annoyed.
Finally you looked back at him.
"Where is she?" you asked firmly.
Owen's shoulders lowered slightly. "She's at the infirmary with Manny."
Before you could ask anything else, he continued.
"She's fine." The reassurance came quickly, almost automatically. "They're questioning the medics."
The tension in your chest eased a little.
A long silence settled over the office afterward.
The distant sound of voices drifted through the hallway outside. Somewhere farther down the building, a door slammed shut. Neither of you moved.
His voice was noticeably softer this time. "She misses you."
You immediately rolled your eyes. "Then she should've been nicer when I was here." The bitterness in your voice surprised even you.
There wasn't any argument in his expression.
"She knows that," he said quietly.
You shifted in your chair and shook your head, exhaustion and irritation mixing together until you could no longer tell them apart. "Are we done then?"
Owen let out a slow breath. The sound carried the weight of someone trying very hard to remain patient. "I don't understand why you're upset with me."
Your eyes snapped back to him immediately. "Don't understand?" A sharp laugh escaped you. "You were nothing but a jerk to me." The anger you'd been carrying for days surged forward before you could stop it. "Then I'm supposed to lean on you because Abby sucks?"
The words landed heavily between you.
Owen didn't answer right away. He simply stared at you from across the desk, his expression unreadable.
That somehow made it worse.
You pushed yourself out of the chair so abruptly that the metal legs scraped loudly against the floor. The noise echoed through the office. For a moment you stood there breathing hard, your gaze drifting around the room.
Abby's coffee mug sitting near a stack of paperwork.
You were surrounded by reminders of her while simultaneously being told to stay away from her.
Something inside you finally snapped. "This is over."
Owen shook his head. "I have more—"
Your hand moved before your brain caught up.
A thick hardcover book sat near the edge of the desk. You grabbed it, feeling its weight settle into your palm, and launched it across the room.
The book struck Owen squarely in the chest.
The impact wasn't particularly hard. It bounced off him and landed awkwardly in his lap before sliding onto the floor.
Judging by the look on his face, he was simply stunned.
For the first time since you'd entered the office, Owen seemed completely speechless.
You didn't wait for him to recover.
The door flew open beneath your hand as you stormed into the hallway. The cool air outside the office hit your face, but it did nothing to calm the heat burning beneath your skin.
That thought alone was enough to keep you walking.
At least patrol offered something useful.
A chance to burn through the frustration clawing at your ribs.
Luckily, you were already dressed for it.
A black tank top clung to your frame beneath your gear. Cargo pants. Boots. Clothes made for movement rather than conversation.
You were tired of conversations.
A bitter laugh threatened to escape you as you rounded the corner toward the elevators.
Somewhere along the way, you'd started feeling bad for Seraphites.
Started wondering who they were before they picked up weapons.
Started imagining families and histories and lives.
You hated what that kind of thinking did to you.
You wanted to go back to the way things had been before. Back when patrols were simple. Back when you didn't care whose head you were blowing off. Back when the enemy was just the enemy.
You reached the elevator and jabbed the button harder than necessary.
The metal panel rattled beneath your hand.
Your pulse still hammered in your ears as you stared at the closed doors, willing them to open.
You rode the elevator down in silence, your jaw still tight from the argument.
The moment the doors opened, you stepped out and marched toward the armory without slowing. Soldiers moved around you carrying equipment and ammunition crates, but you barely noticed them. Your thoughts were still trapped upstairs in Abby's office, replaying every irritating conversation you'd had over the past week.
By the time you reached the armory, your anger had settled into something colder.
Thalia was already there.
The two of you had grown unexpectedly close over the past few weeks. It had started with cigarettes. Most friendships did these days. Long patrols, shared nicotine, and mutual complaints had a way of speeding things along.
You signed out your rifle, pistol, ammunition, and explosives while she waited outside by the trucks.
The afternoon air smelled faintly of gasoline and wet pavement as you stepped outside.
"Donna!" Thalia lifted a hand in greeting, a grin already spreading across her face.
You held yours out immediately. "I'm driving."
She laughed and tossed the keys upward before catching them again.
Then she tightened her grip. "Nope."
With an irritated grunt, you yanked open the rear passenger door and climbed into the compartment behind the cab. The metal floor rattled beneath your boots as you dropped heavily onto the bench seat. Before Thalia could say another word, you slammed the door shut hard enough to make the entire truck shudder. The impact echoed through the vehicle and briefly drowned out the sounds of the base outside.
The truck roared to life a moment later. You felt the vibration of the engine through the seat as Thalia pulled away from the armory and guided the vehicle toward the stadium gates. Through the dusty window, soldiers moved through the loading yard carrying rifles, ammunition crates, and supply packs.
Patrols were assembling for the evening while officers barked orders over the distant growl of engines. Normally, the familiar routine settled something inside you. There was comfort in the predictability of patrols, checkpoints, and assignments. Today, however, everything felt distant. The entire world seemed muffled by the anger still simmering beneath your skin.
Your backpack rested beside you on the bench seat. After several moments, you dragged it into your lap and unzipped it. The contents immediately came into view. Several pipe bombs sat wrapped carefully in cloth to prevent them from knocking together. Molotov cocktails occupied another compartment.
Spare ammunition, magazines, and a combat knife filled the remaining pockets. There was enough firepower packed into the bag to destroy a small building if you needed to. You found yourself staring at the explosives longer than necessary as the truck rolled down the road.
The anger that had followed you from Abby's office stirred again. It had been sitting inside your chest for hours, refusing to cool no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. You were angry at Abby for pushing you away.
You were angry at Owen for acting as though he had done nothing wrong. You were angry at the interrogations, the mole investigation, and the tension that had infected every corner of the stadium.
Most of all, you were angry at yourself for caring about any of it. Part of you wanted violence simply because violence was uncomplicated. Violence did not require conversations. Violence did not require vulnerability. Violence did not force you to examine emotions that you barely understood yourself.
You wanted something loud enough to silence the thoughts constantly circling through your head.
With practiced movements, you removed your pistol from its holster and checked the chamber. Your hands worked automatically while your mind drifted elsewhere. Years of repetition had transformed the process into muscle memory. The metallic clicks of ammunition sliding into place filled the compartment as you loaded a fresh magazine and secured it inside the grip. The familiar sounds were oddly comforting. Weapons followed rules. People rarely did.
Outside the window, Seattle drifted past in shades of gray and green. Cracked roads wound between decaying buildings draped in moss and ivy. Weeds pushed through sidewalks that had long since surrendered to nature. Trees rose from rooftops and burst through shattered windows. The city looked like it existed in a constant struggle between civilization and wilderness. Neither side appeared capable of fully winning.
As the truck continued forward, the sounds of the stadium gradually faded behind you. The farther you traveled from the base, the quieter the world became. Patrol vehicles appeared less frequently. Entire stretches of road passed without another person in sight. The only constant sound was the steady hum of the engine beneath your feet.
Eventually, a familiar cluster of buildings appeared ahead. The village your unit had been assigned to raid sat partially hidden among the trees, its barricades visible from the road. You sat up slightly when you recognized it. You expected Thalia to slow down. You expected her to turn toward the entrance. Instead, she drove straight past it.
You frowned as the village slipped by your window.
Thalia never touched the brakes. She did not slow the truck. She did not signal. She did not even glance toward the settlement. Within moments, the entire village had disappeared behind a wall of trees.
At first, you assumed there was a reasonable explanation. Patrol routes changed all the time. Perhaps another squad had already been assigned to clear the village. Perhaps command had redirected your orders because of the ongoing investigation. Perhaps Thalia knew something you didn't. There were plenty of possibilities, and none of them seemed important enough to waste energy questioning.
You returned your attention to your gear as the truck continued down the road.
Several more minutes passed.
Gradually, the scenery began to change.
The roads became less familiar. Buildings appeared less frequently. The remains of Seattle slowly gave way to dense stretches of forest. Telephone poles lined portions of the highway, many leaning at odd angles after years of neglect.
Moss swallowed road signs until only fragments of lettering remained visible. Thick ferns crowded the shoulders of the pavement. The trees grew taller and closer together until they formed a nearly unbroken wall of green on either side of the road.
You eventually realized that you had not seen another patrol vehicle in quite some time.
That observation finally pulled your attention away from your backpack.
You looked out the rear window.
The city skyline should have still been visible behind you.
You stared for several seconds.
The stadium had vanished.
The apartment towers were gone.
The distant silhouette of Seattle had disappeared completely.
Nothing remained except rolling hills, endless forest, and a narrow stretch of road winding through unfamiliar territory.
A slow feeling of unease settled into your stomach.
You lowered your pistol onto your lap and leaned forward slightly. Your gaze shifted from the passing trees to the back of Thalia's seat. The truck continued forward at a steady pace, carrying you farther from the city with every passing mile.
For the first time since leaving the base, you began paying attention to where you were actually going.
Reaching toward the sliding window separating the cab from the back compartment, you pushed it open. "Thalia?"
She glanced at you through the rearview mirror. "Yeah?"
Your lip curled. "You're off course."
A smirk immediately appeared on her face.
The kind that made you suspicious.
"I'm taking you somewhere special."
Then sighed heavily. "Is this for weed?"
She shrugged one shoulder and bit down on her lip to suppress a laugh. "Maybe."
You groaned and dropped your head back against the seat.
Somehow that answer worried you less than the alternatives.
Thalia continued driving for what felt like forever.
After a while, you stopped trying to memorize the turns she was taking. The road twisted through the forest in long, winding stretches, and every mile looked more or less identical to the last. The initial suspicion that had settled in your stomach remained, but it gradually lost some of its sharpness as the monotony of the drive wore on.
You shifted across the bench seat and stretched your legs out in front of you. The metal wall behind your back was cool, and the steady vibration of the truck rattled through the frame beneath you. The engine droned continuously, creating a low hum that blended with the sound of tires rolling over cracked pavement.
Outside the window, the landscape continued to change.
The farther Thalia drove, the thicker the forest became.
Towering evergreens lined both sides of the road. Moss covered tree trunks, rocks, and fallen branches. Ferns crowded the forest floor in dense patches of green. In some places, the trees stood so close together that they formed a nearly solid wall, making it impossible to see more than a few yards into the woods.
You frowned as you watched the scenery slide past.
Where the hell was she going?
At first, you had assumed there was some practical explanation. Maybe command had reassigned your patrol route. Maybe there was an outpost farther from the city that needed supplies. Maybe there had been reports of Seraphite activity somewhere outside the usual patrol zones.
The longer the drive continued, the less convinced you became.
The truck never turned toward an outpost.
It never approached a checkpoint.
It never slowed for a patrol station.
Instead, Thalia continued driving deeper into unfamiliar territory.
You considered opening the window and asking again, but the thought quickly died. Thalia was clearly enjoying whatever secret she was keeping. Questioning her would only encourage her.
With a quiet sigh, you leaned your head back against the wall of the truck.
The scenery remained unchanged.
You found your gaze drifting upward whenever the canopy opened enough to reveal the sky. Thick gray clouds moved slowly overhead, their edges illuminated by occasional breaks in the sunlight. Every now and then, a shaft of pale light pierced through the forest and painted streaks of gold across the road before disappearing again.
Nearly twenty minutes passed that way.
The longer you sat there, the more the anger that had consumed you earlier began to fade. It did not disappear completely. The frustration with Abby still lingered. Your irritation toward Owen remained. The interrogations, the mole hunt, and the endless tension hanging over the stadium still waited for you back home.
For the first time all day, however, those thoughts felt distant.
You were far enough away from the stadium that it almost seemed unreal.
There were no soldiers out here.
No radios crackling with orders.
No officers demanding reports.
No endless reminders of Abby lurking around every corner.
There was only the road and the forest.
You watched the trees pass by and found yourself relaxing despite your confusion. The steady rhythm of the truck was oddly soothing. The constant hum of the engine and the gentle swaying of the vehicle made it difficult to stay angry for long.
Eventually, you realized you had been staring at the clouds for several minutes without thinking about anything at all.
The realization surprised you.
It had been days since your mind had been that quiet.
Then, without warning, the truck began to slow.
You immediately sat up straighter.
Your brow furrowed as you looked toward the front of the vehicle.
The engine remained running, but the speed steadily decreased.
Whatever Thalia had been dragging you across half the state to see, it looked like you were finally about to find out what it was.
The truck gradually slowed beneath you before turning off the road entirely. You sat up straighter as cracked pavement appeared outside the windows. The forest began to thin just enough to reveal a massive abandoned building nestled among the trees. Time had not been kind to it. Several windows had been shattered years ago, leaving jagged gaps in the glass. Moss crawled across sections of the concrete walls while thick vines climbed toward the roofline, swallowing entire portions of the structure beneath layers of green. The place looked forgotten by everyone except nature itself.
A knot of unease tightened in your stomach. This wasn't anywhere near the usual WLF patrol routes. There were no checkpoints, no watchtowers, and no signs of Wolves operating nearby. The truck rolled into what had once been a parking lot before finally coming to a stop near the side of the building. The engine continued idling beneath you, filling the silence with a steady mechanical rumble. For a moment neither of you spoke. Then Thalia pushed open her door and climbed out.
You frowned immediately. "That's it?"
A grin spread across her face. "That's it."
Before you could press her for an explanation, she was already jogging toward one of the side entrances. The door slammed shut behind her, and a moment later she disappeared into the darkness beyond the broken doorway.
You stared after her for several seconds before letting out a long sigh. Whatever she was doing, she clearly had no intention of explaining it.
Grabbing your rifle, you climbed out of the truck and landed lightly on the cracked pavement below. The cool air immediately wrapped around you. The scent of damp earth, pine needles, and old rain filled your lungs as you moved away from the vehicle.
Years of patrol experience took over almost instantly. Your eyes swept across the surrounding landscape without conscious thought, identifying potential threats, elevated positions, and possible hiding places.
The forest surrounding the building was dense enough to make your skin crawl. Towering evergreens stretched high above the canopy, their branches swaying softly beneath the overcast sky. Thick ferns covered the forest floor while fallen logs and clusters of brush created countless places for someone to conceal themselves.
The silence felt strange. There were no distant gunshots. No radio chatter. No patrols. No sounds of civilization at all. The entire area felt isolated in a way Seattle rarely did.
You adjusted the strap of your rifle and slowly turned in a circle. Nothing moved. No infected stumbled through the undergrowth. No Seraphite scouts watched from the trees. No signs of human activity appeared anywhere.
The absence of danger should have reassured you, yet somehow it only made you more suspicious. Places this quiet often hid something.
Moving a short distance from the truck, you lowered yourself into a crouch and raised your rifle. The familiar weight settled comfortably against your shoulder as you peered through the scope. The world immediately narrowed. You began methodically scanning the tree line, moving from one section of forest to the next. Every cluster of bushes became a potential hiding place. Every broken branch drew your attention. After the trees, you checked the rooftop of the abandoned building. Then the surrounding hills. Then the deeper sections of forest beyond them.
The longer you searched, the more convinced you became that nobody was out there. Your shoulders relaxed slightly. Maybe Thalia really had dragged you all the way out here for something stupid. The thought almost made you laugh. After everything that had happened over the past week, driving forty minutes into the middle of nowhere for weed suddenly seemed entirely believable.
You lowered the rifle and shifted your weight.
Then a hand settled against the middle of your back.
Every muscle in your body locked instantly. Your grip tightened around your rifle as instinct took over.
"Thalia, this is ridiculous."
A voice answered."Is it?" The sound hit you so hard that the world seemed to stop.
The hand remained against your back, but you barely felt it anymore. Every sound around you seemed to vanish at once. The wind moving through the trees, the distant creak of branches, even the steady hum of blood rushing through your ears all faded beneath the weight of a single realization.
Not the sort of familiarity that came from hearing someone around the stadium every day or passing the same soldiers in hallways. It wasn't the recognition that came from routine. It wasn't recent.
The sound seemed to reach directly into your chest and pull something loose.
For a brief, disorienting moment, your brain didn't identify the voice itself. Instead, it identified the feeling. A flood of half-forgotten memories crashed forward before you could stop them. Summer afternoons spent running through fields. Shared bedrooms. Whispered conversations after bedtime. Long car rides. Fights that lasted twenty minutes before dissolving into laughter. The strange, unshakable certainty that another person would always be there because they simply always had been.
The sensation was so sudden it almost hurt.
A dozen explanations flashed through your mind at once. Maybe somebody sounded similar. Maybe your brain was making connections that weren't really there. Maybe the isolation, the long drive, and the emotional exhaustion from the past week were finally catching up with you.
The hand squeezed your shoulder gently.
The gesture only made your chest tighten further.
A strange fear settled over you as you moved. It wasn't fear of danger. It wasn't fear of being attacked. It was something far worse. Somewhere deep down, you were suddenly terrified of looking and finding someone else standing there.
Because if it wasn't her, you weren't sure you could handle the disappointment.
The movement felt impossibly slow. Your eyes traveled upward from the hand resting against your shoulder. A sleeve. An arm. The outline of a body standing behind you. Every inch revealed another piece of the person who had spoken, and with every second your heart beat harder.
Recognition arrived before you even saw her face.
By the time your eyes finally lifted high enough, some part of you already knew.
The realization settled over you with the force of a physical blow.
And for one impossible moment, you forgot how to breathe.
Not completely. Not enough to erase them. You could still see the passage of time written across her face. You could see it in the fine lines gathered around her eyes and the faint wrinkles that appeared when she smiled. You could see it in the way she carried herself, with a confidence and steadiness that hadn't been there when you were children.
But none of that mattered.
Long, thick black hair framed her face, so similar in color and texture to your own that the resemblance struck you immediately. The dark waves spilled over her shoulders, catching faint traces of light filtering through the trees. Small moles dotted her cheeks and jawline, exactly where you remembered them. Her nose curved slightly at the bridge, familiar enough that a strange ache settled into your chest the moment you saw it. Years of living outdoors had left her skin deeply tanned, darker than you remembered, and there was something both familiar and foreign about seeing the changes time had carved into her.
Your eyes moved across her face greedily.
You couldn't stop looking.
Every feature felt precious.
Every detail felt important.
As though if you looked away for even a second, she might disappear.
The expression transformed her instantly.
You remembered that smile.
God, you remembered that smile.
The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepened as she tilted her head slightly to one side. There was warmth in her expression. Affection. Relief. The sort of look someone gave a person they had been searching for far longer than they cared to admit.
For a moment neither of you spoke.
Robin's smile softened even further.
"I missed you, Donna," she said quietly.
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