(Caboose reviving Church through the epsilon unit)

@hansblrrx​ Tumblr decided to eat your ask, so I had to find it in my email. Hope you enjoy!

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He’d probably deny it to his dying breath, but he really did care about his fellow Blue team members. Not just as Alpha, but Epsilon too.

It was a normal night, Carolina was asleep after yet another long session spent planning moves against a force that had stolen Freelancer equipment. Even with the director gone, and the Reds and Blues safely relocated to a new home, she still felt like she had to bury the ghosts of her past.

Epsilon knew how important it was for her to make sure no one was ever hurt again by Project Freelancer, even if it was indirectly. So he had agreed to go with her, and now, staring out the window of the ship they had commandeered, Epsilon thought of his own ghosts.

He pulled up pictures of Allison, of Tex, the distinction between the two painfully clear. Allison, smiling as she held her equipment, ready to go to war in humanity’s defense. Tex, not even looking at the camera, unconcerned with anyone or anything but a burning goal that even she had not grasped. He scrolled through pictures of Florida, someone he knew now to be only a deceiver.

He paused as he came to a group photo of Alpha, Tucker, and Caboose. Alpha looked less than enthused, Tucker shoving at Caboose as he tried to joyfully pull Tucker into a bear hug. Epsilon chuckled lightly, swiping the picture to the side as he continued through the files.

There were various group shots of the team together, a few with Tex, a few with Sheila. He paused and laughed quietly when he arrived at a photo where Tucker was vainly trying to wrestle the sniper rifle from him...rather, trying to get it away from Alpha.

Epsilon sighed, shaking his head. Sometimes the distinction between himself and Alpha was difficult. He wasn’t even sure how he had the same memories of the time at Blood Gulch - maybe it had filled in when Caboose told him stories during his time in the memory unit.

There were very few pictures of Carolina with the Blue team, but that was to be expected. She hadn’t been with them for long, and was still learning to accept them as her new family.

Carolina stirred, and he tapped the files, instantly storing them away. “How was your rest? Ready to go kick some ass?”

Carolina stretched, joints popping. “Ready as I’ll ever be. How close are we?”

“She’s actually right in front of us.” Epsilon pointed at navigation.

cus you’re going down, good friend,

so i’m letting go of your leg.

the houses you’re haunting will vaunt with a sick hearty laughter

- you’re one of them, aren’t you by the paper chase

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drew some catified temple and ghost biff because i’d been drawing humans all day and wanted some cat art! it turned into a full piece very fast one youre one of them arent you started playing on my shuffle lol oops

This is my secret santa gift for @vonlipvig for the @redvsbluesecretsanta event. They asked for Epsilon angst and possibly Yorkalina with Lina remembering York. So I combined the too with just some general angsty feels from Carolina about anything. Sorry, it was a couple days late. I ran into some unexpected posting complications over break.

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Ghosts don’t exist. So the thought of an AI, assuming he’s a ghost that could interact with the physical realm was sort of hilarious. A mind that was so incapable of accepting any other possibility that it’s almost impossible to connect it back to her father. Then Carolina remembers how impossible it was for him to accept her mother’s death. All the sudden Church’s sudden disappearing when even slightly inconvenienced makes perfect sense.

Carolina watches the old Blood Gulch Canyon clips with a bitter sense of melancholy and a twisted kind of joy. Epsilon wasn’t like her father, but he had never been so dimwitted either. It’s strange seeing the memory possess more common sense than the Alpha. She wonders if it was because he was so broken that it was a struggle to hold on to as much as he could.

“York? What about Lina?” She could feel her eyes grow as her heart beats faster. She wasn’t even aware that Alpha had remembered her. It was strange hearing her the twisted voice of her father genuinely ask after her health. The fact that it was his first instinct after hearing York’s name struck a different kind of chord.

“She was already dead.”

Alpha doesn’t even bother to ask, how or why. He doesn’t question the death of just another freelancer. It doesn’t even register in his program that it’s something to collect his interest. Not the way it leaves her with so many questions. She continues watching, now having a closer timeline of when York was killed. Learning who was with him in his last moments. Once upon a time, she would have assumed it was Tex who had killed him. The ghost of her mother who had taken everything away. Her father’s attention, the reason for all the work, why she joined the military, the reason why she left it.

The one who got York killed.

Pairing: Washington x Freelancer!Reader Rating: General Warning(s): Mentions of violence and blood. Prompt: #15 Don’t die on me--Please... Since he can remember he has always been surrounded by death and he can’t take it any longer, not when he finally has to find you before it is too late. 

Washington knew death as an old friend. First was his father, his cats when he was a kid, partners that fought alongside with him...The deaths caused by his own hand.

He had heard several times that after a while you could grow numb to the feeling, but he had never received such a beautiful gift. Every death he had seen, caused and suffered were still fresh in the sleepless nights filled with nightmares he had constantly.

When he started his labors as Recovery, it was hell; watching the cold faces of his dead friends. People he knew by heart, people he trusted when he was naive and younger. 

Every time he had to blow a corpse up, he begged that the numbness finally replaced the guilt and pain. 

His worst fear was finding you, cold and stripped from life, leaving you to be just a memory more for him, to be another face haunting him in his sleep. He still cherished the moment he spent with you in your time as friends, and then when you evolved into something more and he couldn’t allow losing that. 

Then, one day the emergency beacon was ringing loud in his ears, showing the coordinates of a place not far from where he was. It was you. 

No, no. It couldn’t be. You couldn’t, you were better than that. 

Wash had to get where you were before it was too late. Before you were gone forever and he had to resist the urge to put an end to himself for all the pain a job like this was causing him. 

When he got there, it was quiet, and you were alone, cornered into the small space of the room. You pointed your gun at him, breathing heavily. At your feet rested a group of corpses from the people looking for you, looking for your armor and the information that you had.  

After all those years, you were there. Alive, just a couple of feet away, he wanted nothing more than to run and tackle you to the ground and tell you how much he had missed you; the only thing stopping him was that you didn’t seem to be letting go of your weapon. 

You were wary of him, of course, you had a couple of encounters with Maine that ended up pretty much bad, the same thing was with the twins...You couldn’t bring yourself to trust him. Even if something inside your head was yelling at you to do it, even if your heart was aching for him. 

“What do you want?” You asked with a hiss, feeling the blood trickle down your temple and your nape. “You came for it? My A.I? I don’t have it anymore.” And you had thrown it away into the water when you were running from the guys that were after you, not caring about the pain it caused you to do it. 

“You removed it by yourself?” He asked, surprised but not entirely. 

“Yes. What do you want, David?” You spat his name like venom, but it made his heart skip a beat hearing you say it after so many years. 

Washington let down his weapon, showing you he meant no harm. “I heard the emergency beacon. I came as fast as I could to help you.” You had to know that he would never hurt you. 

But you were still wary of him, and then, gave up, easing from your fighting stance and resting against the wall with a frown in your face. “You are a Recovery, then.”

“Yes.” He took a step closer, “I am here to help.” There was a smile curving his lips, and that feeling of coming back to you was there inside his chest, telling him to run towards you and never let you go. 

You could make his nightmares and the numbness go away. You could change it all if only you could trust him. 

“I missed you.” You said, your voice suddenly falling into something he couldn’t quite recognize. 

“I missed you too.” He was much closer in a second, resisting the urges of embracing you and hold you against his chest. 

“We need to talk about things. A lot of things.” His smile was wider under the helmet, feeling the relief of just being with you. 

“Yes, we do...” You were still frowning, looking around for your helmet, only to remember that it was long gone and into little pieces, maybe that was the reason the beacon was activated. “...but we need to get out of here. These guys have been following me for weeks.” 

And you feared for your life, even if your old lover was there claiming to help you. 

Wash nodded, taking just a second to lift his hand and touch you. Ghosting his fingers on the skin of your cheek, where he wiped away a small droplet of blood. The contact was so familiar coming from him, so loving and caring.

You drank in the sight of him in his armor, he was quite taller yet he seemed to curve his stance out of exhaustion, but he seemed to be the same man.

With a deep breath, you took a step away, allowing yourself to calm down for once, trying to sink in your mind the fact that you were not alone. 

And you held your gun tighter in your hands as you looked over the place just for a moment before leaving with Wash following close behind you. You had been sure to clear out the whole place just as a precaution while you still tried to find a place to settle in.

Wash wanted to speak, to ask something and to know what you had been doing since the last time he saw you, walking faster to catch up with you. 

And then a shot rang in his ears when you turned right in a corner. He shot his gun to the front, watching how the soldier stumbled backward as his chest bleed and he fell to the ground.

He heard you coughing and choking, and the mere sound was enough to make him feel sick. He slowly turned his head, only to see you with your gloved hand around your throat as blood spurted out from the bullet wound in your neck.

Before you fell, he hurried to hold you in his arms, wiping away with his thumb the line of blood that abandoned your lips. 

“No, no, no, no!” His voice was breaking as he fell to the floor on his knees with you on his arms. One of his hands went to your neck, applying pressure to make sure you wouldn’t bleed out, but the blood kept seeping out from your mouth. 

This was his fault. This was his fault. 

You looked up at him with wide eyes full of fear he had never seen before. You opened your mouth, only for more blood to come out, making you choke. 

“No, don’t speak.” He looked around to see if there was anything that could help you, but there was absolutely nothing. “Don’t die on me--Please...” He reached to rip his helmet from his head, taking a sharp breath when his voice broke into a sob.

“I just found you...” He cried, lowering his forehead to your chest plate to feel the slowing movement of your chest. “Please, everyone but you...”

You couldn’t leave like that, not when he had just found you, not when he had spent so much trying to find you and protect you.

Then, the slight movement of your chest came to a halt, and suddenly your body was too stiff, too cold. He didn’t know how much time he had spent there, crying over your body, but when the realization hit him there was blood everywhere.

In his hands, in his lap, pooling around you, and your eyes were closed like you were drowning into an uneasy dream. 

He called your name, and there was and response.

“Recovery One, what’s the status of the Agent (S/N)? Recovery One, are you there?”

It took him a long time to answer, “K.I.A. There was not an A.I, just her body, I already dealt with that” He was lying, because, you of all people you didn’t deserve to be just a name more on a list. 

He couldn’t blow your body up with explosives, he needed to bury you and give you a proper place to rest. God, what was he thinking?

He felt the urge to throw up, to just....stop and keep blaming himself. 

There was no blame, no.....nothing. 

Anyone want some morally questionable character angst on this fine eve

light angst hurt/comfort fic, of Tucker trying to do Caboose’s uncared-for hair: