singularityderp | EVERYTHING TAKES YOU BACK

Characters: ☆ Name Carter || (

nobleleader )
☆ Name York || (

howkickassiam )

Number of Tracks: 2324 OKAY I CUT IT DOWN BY 10,000 DON'T JUDGE ME.

CARTER AND KAT

247

GO

# 247 Fiona Apple | Used to Love Him

Emile'd warned him, way back. Even Kat's patience with this wasn't endless, even Kat got tired of waiting for something that she wasn't going to get. None of them could blame her, really. The Commander was utterly brilliant on the battlefield, and not one of them would have said that they didn't trust him to watch their backs on and off the field. When things weren't as complicated, though- during downtime, during times when all of them could actually relax, it seemed like he couldn't.

Even here, on the station, when all they had to worry about was keeping certain people in line, Carter was always Commander Carter; he was finding the habit harder and harder to shake, no matter how hard he tried. It wasn't for lack of trying, either- he could get along with civvies just fine, could walk the walk and talk the talk and no one was the wiser.

It's just, Kat was waiting on him. He knew it, just as much as everyone else did. And normally, with certain things riding on his shoulders, he did nothing but exceed expectations, but with this-- well, with this, it wasn't so easy. Things stayed the same.

The shower has room, Commander, Kat offers, wearing nothing but a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts, standing in the doorway to the bathroom, and it's like the fifty other times before she's offered, all long legs and bared skin and Carter wants to say yes, because he wants this, wants her.

He smiles, just the faintest twitch of his lips and rolls out of bed, shaking his head.

Maybe later, he answers, and pretends like he doesn't see the look on Kat's face that's frustration and a little bit of anger all mixed in, her hand clutching the doorway tight enough it creaks in protest. It's how it happens every single time, countless times until Kat finally realizes it's going to stop.

Emile'd warned him.

"...I understand," Carter says carefully, forcing himself to look at her, because for some reason, even when being berated by Mendez, it didn't hurt this much. Which, really, considering the look on Kat's face, is unfair. He's hurt her more than she's hurting him at the moment, and he shoves any of the sting down, fights that back. This whole mess started because he can't function properly- can't separate work from life, and can't actually take a hold of the idea of having a normal life.

"Do you?" Kat asks, tone a little sharper than she realizes, and she shakes her head before he can formulate an answer, not wanting to hear it. "Five years is too long, Commander."

"I know." And he does know, he really does. It isn't like he means to string her along, it isn't like he doesn't want her, but work always comes first, and he can't find that balance, though not for lack of trying. He can't blame her for finally giving up, for telling him no, this time. Carter sucks in a breath and gives her the crookedest of smiles, no humor in it. "If that's all, Kat."

She looks like she wants to hit him, honestly- that brief flash of something across her face as she stares at him, and then shakes her head, a quick jerk of her chin, hand curling into a ball. "It would seem it is," she says, and this time, makes no attempt to hide the ice in her tone. Stupid, maybe, but she'd hoped he'd fight for it. Fight her, at least. He's good at fighting everything else, and while she'll never deny that she knows how to get her way with him, she hadn't wanted her way with this.

What's done is done, though; Kat steps back, and turns, leaving the doorway open for him to leave her room. "I've got work to do," she points out, motioning to the mess of wires and cables and other things she has thrown across her table, going over to it as she hears Carter's footsteps get further away as he walks for it. "This won't have any effect on the team."

And somehow, he thinks that last line is there to drive the knife in a little deeper. The whole issue is that he doesn't let anything effect team dynamics, too caught up in how things are Supposed To Go, to do what he wants. It won't effect the team; he knows that. Things will go back to how they were, they'll all still function the same, but he knows late nights spent curled up in bed with Kat are over. It's understandable, but it doesn't mean he likes it, really. "Have a good night," Carter says finally, for lack of anything else, and slips out the door.

lajsdflajsdf oh baw 8(

GODDAMMIT COMMANDER IT BETTER NOT TAKE FIVE YEARS IN GAME

WELL FIVE FROM WHEN SHE WAS LEGAL AND CRUSH-ON-ABLE.......

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evaskullface.livejournal.com - 2011-02-20 05:20 (UTC) - Expand

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nobleleader.livejournal.com - 2011-02-20 07:21 (UTC) - Expand

CARTER AND EMILE 239

also York and Delta 12

12 | Above and Below | The Bravery

York's exhausted.

It takes more effort than he would like to push himself to his feet in the stillness of the room, whitewashed walls and beeping machines, a splash of gold against the equally white sheets.

She's been comatose for a week, now, her AI confiscated for "safety," though York has the sick feeling they've been deleted. The attempt was a failure- having AI that were so unstable likely wasn't necessary. Knowing Chi and Psi were gone was just as depressing as knowing that the odds of Merry waking up were next to none.

York leans in, kisses her forehead just once, making sure she's covered up entirely, smoothing back her blonde hair, and leaves the room, heading silently for his own. The alert comes in halfway there- they're being sent out again. He brushes past Montana without a second thought, ducking into his room, locking the door, reaching for Delta's chip to slide him home.

Instantly, everything stops feeling so sharp, so intense. It doesn't stop hurting, of course, but Delta being in his head means everything eases, as the AI spreads out over his consciousness, seeps into all the little cracks and makes him relax.

I know.

He knows Delta's still learning the nuances of human emotion, so the low, harsh ache doesn't quite make a lot of sense-- they've only been together a few months, and Delta's still getting acclimated to the overwhelming rush of emotions that feed through to him with each new event. Carolina's accident had brought with it a whole slew of information and things to process that he was still working on, trying to figure out why York ached this much when the woman was still alive. Delta's attempts at processing make it easier not to think about it, though; York can focus on getting his armor on, explaining with just a short push of the memory of the orders he'd gotten, rather than verbally.

Delta asks dubiously, pausing some of the sub-processes to focus on York as the man keeps putting on pieces of his armor. Even he can detect the loneliness, the guilt that came with the idea that if I'd been stronger, faster, paying more attention, that hit wouldn't have knocked Carolina out and she wouldn't be laying in that bed in a coma.

Idly, Delta starts to press numbers at him (statistics, his own ranking, the speed and just how impossible it would have been for him to have known that grenade was going to go off, and that Carolina'd be right there) but York throws up mental blocks so hard and fast that Delta just sits there a moment, before going back to his analyzing.

Sometimes, Delta, I don't need a rundown like that, okay? York mumbles, as kindly as he can manage right then, and feels Delta latch on to everything right then, trying to make sense of it all- why York's upset, why it so intensely shitty to know there's nothing he can do about the girl in the hospital bed.

, Delta says finally, working on understanding why it is that York's reacting like he is, even if he's fairly sure it's impossible to do.

It's fine. We've gotta job to do. You good?

"Let's go, then," York says out-loud, the words inaudible with his helmet on, and steps out the door.

/smashes these two together

so tragic ;;

8(!!!

Okay, so the first one was "Happy Holidays, You Bastard," by blink 182 but there was no........way......... I could do anything with that???

SO LOL you get 240. "Soldier in a box | Hot hot heat." ALSO THIS WILL NOT BE DEPRESSING GODDAMNIT.

___

Emile never thought of himself as claustrophobic, honestly. After all, he's dealt with tighter spaces on missions, before, but with each rumble of the ground and shake of the building, he realizes that it's really possible to get claustrophobic. He's got barely enough room to move, one arm pinned-- his good arm, goddamnit, of course, and the slow, steady burn and ache of it lets him know yeah, something is fucked up in it. He hopes it's not too bad, because that's his good arm, and he really, really needs that.

There's little else to do besides, wait, though; the concrete and metal interferes too much with the comms to get anything out past a rush of static. He can really only hope they know where he is, and even then, that they can get to him.

Emile's head thunks back against the rock behind him, and he curses lightly under his breath, each little movement making his shoulder scream with pain, shooting all the way from his fingers to his toes. There's another rumble, and for the longest moment he feels sick, staring at the rocks above him like he has been for the last two hours, watching rubble fall down onto his helmet. He always assumed he'd go out fighting- not like this, not trapped under rubble, waiting to bite it.

The huge rock above his head trembles, more rubble falling onto his mask, and he just yells, straining against the rock pinning him, ignoring the way his whole body protests and he almost vomits inside the helmet. It's only that that keeps him from fighting more-- he doesn't want to be sitting there, trapped with his vomit, too. Emile sinks back, eyes closed, hissing a breath out between his teeth as more static comes over the comms, and he hears Kat's voice yell, distorted but panicked over the radio, followed by Jorge's loud holler of-- well. He can't make that out either, but it's something.

There are explosions in the distance, and Emile chokes on bile when the rock on his arm shudders and shifts, dropping down, pain shooting up his shoulder, making him nearly vomit all over again, breathing in shallow, panicked gasps. There's not enough room, there's really fucking not and he's fairly sure that there's too much rubble out there to get any sort of idea where he is. He's not scared of dying-- none of the Spartans are, it's just not in their heads to be, but he is scared of dying like this. Trapped, unable to fight, when fighting is what he's good at, what he's been trained in.

"Boss, this is Emile, I'm --" he starts, and hears the scream of static and feedback on his mic and headset, shutting up instantly when it gets too sharp. Still no luck.

All he can do is wait, then.

It's nearly four hours later, when he feels the rocks around him trembling-- they have been this whole time, but this is worse, and for a long moment he thinks this is it, and braces himself, equal parts furious and ready, except--

Except, well, the rock gets lifted off of him just as it smacks against his helmet, and Emile feels the other ones lifted away, catching sight of a blue helmet before he's dragged out of the rubble and the rocks collapse in, leaving him gasping at the rush of dizziness and pain that comes from being manhandled like that. "Easy, boss," Emile says in a pained rush, shaking his head, fingers twitching as he tries to move them and- yeah, best he just leaves off on that, then. Carter gives him a once-over, quiet and concerned, plasma damage on the front of his armor. "You let it scratch my helmet."

"Can't have everything," Carter answers, giving him a once-over, helping Emile out of the rubble until they're down on solid ground, and then he lets the other Spartan down, well aware a bruised arm doesn't mean he needs babied.

Emile wobbles just a little bit, before grabbing his shotgun, and holding it, tipping his chin at Carter. "Took your sweet time getting here, huh?" After so long, he'd thought it was useless, anyway; no motion trackers, no nothing, how were they supposed to find him?

"We weren't gonna leave you," Carter assured quietly, and clasped his good shoulder, nodding his head at where Emile could see everyone else standing. "Let's move out."

"Yes, sir." Emile took the first step toward them, knowing what Carter really meant. Let's go home.

Bawww Commanderrrrr

se this is why Emile follows Carter ;_;

; u ;

YORK AND T-800

"So I herd u liked Sarah"

#32

LMFAO LMFAO LMFAO IT'S AERIS' THEME

/FACE IN HANDS

inb4 Sarah got Aeris'd

Edited 2011-02-20 04:49 (UTC)

HAY COMMANDER S'UP

Carter and Thom. 1132. :D

oh god this. whatamiwriting.jpg. set way back when thom first joins. 8)

hometown glory, adele

__

"Oh."

Thom's tone is a little uneven, enough where Carter notices, sending him a curious look, watching the other Spartan just stand there, quiet for the longest moment.

"Is there a problem?" Carter asks, not unkindly, more just curious, not understanding what it is that's making Thom stand there like he's not sure what they're supposed to be doing. He moves closer, bumps his shoulder against Thom's, and frowns even more when Thom jerks, like he's been startled. "Lieutenant?"

"I'm good. Sir." The last part is tacked on as an afterthought, and Thom pushes on ahead, stepping over still-steaming rubble, picking his way down the ruined mess of a building while Carter follows, keeping a watch on their surroundings and Thom's back as they make their way through, pushing past the ruins around them. He's frowning behind his helmet, of course, not quite able to figure out what it is that's got Thom so unsettled, but they push through building after building, pushing past bodies and walking over blood-spatter, heading for the target.

It's an inconspicuous computer, and takes just a moment to locate; no security systems on it past the normal ones, which is why Carter has Thom here and not Kat. He's all too aware that the LC is teaching their newest tips and tricks on how to get into things he shouldn't, and while he won't openly call them on it, the look on Kat's face when he'd ordered Thom with him for this part had been well worth it.

The house itself is a mess, though. They secure the area in just a few moments, Thom acquiring what they need just as fast, tucking it away. It's up to Kat to decode what it means, but at least now they have it. "Doesn't make sense, sir," Thom says absently, skimming the living room, finishing up a few things on the computer.

Carter knows exactly what he means, though, without him having to explain. "The bodies have to be elsewhere." Which means a chance for a survivor, at least. He and Thom move effortlessly, sliding through the house, sweeping each room and hallway until Thom stops, jaw clenched.

"Commander."

Carter heads over, frowning at what he sees, silent for the longest time. It's not the Covenant, here, even if parts of the town are demolished by them. No, this is entirely human, the bullet holes in the walls, the lack of plasma anywhere. The Insurrectionists started it, but the Covenant had finished it. They're both silent for a moment, before Thom takes the initiative, pushing open the partially open door. This many dead bodies outside a door means there's something worth protecting in there; he's not sure he wants to know what, not based on the mess out here, but his question gets answered when the door catches hard on something.

He pushes a little harder, to get himself room to see into the barely lit room, only to catch sight of a tiny, pale hand attached to an equally pale arm and tiny body, blocking the door.

Carter makes a soft noise, shaking his head, already moving to pull Thom's arm back so they don't disturb it further. She can't have been more than ten, and they both realize what happened. She'd come to the door, no doubt at the sound of yelling and gunfire, and the sloppy spray of bullets that'd killed her parents in front of her door also burst in through it and the walls, catching her, too.

"We need to go." Carter's voice breaks through the silence; he steps over the bodies, heading back for the main door out of the house, trusting Thom to follow. He's read the other man's file, knows the Covenant wiped out his world, just like Carter's own. It's something else entirely, though, knowing that aliens did one thing to your friends, your family, your world, and seeing this mess, knowing that people did that to each other when they have other things to worry about, like being extinct.

Thom's footsteps echo behind him, quicker as he catches up, and then in step with Carter as they head out, both of them silent, because there's really not much to be said, there.

It's back while waiting at the extraction point that Carter finally speaks, rifle held at the ready, watching their surroundings without getting distracted. "Sometimes," he says, and Thom doesn't know what to make of the fact that Carter sounds like he really knows what he's talking about, like he's speaking from experience, "the best thing to do is you don't leave anything back wherever we go, but you take something with you."

He's never been much for symbolism, but even Carter understands the way each new world or new city, or new anything, plasma splashes all over buildings, bodies everywhere, victim of human and Covenant-- he understands how it all builds up and rests on their shoulders, another battle lost, even if they complete their objective, because it never brings back the tens, hundreds, thousands lost. Worse still when you identify with it, when you've got memories of home, of a sibling, of parents who loved you.

Carter grabs Thom's wrist, pressing something into his hand, and looks at him like he can see behind that helmet. "You can't save everyone. We all know that. So you remember the ones we don't save, and we keep moving." It's not that Carter doesn't think Thom's hard enough to do the job, either; he knows all too well they can both take seeing things like this and keep on moving, but the last thing they need is to be demoralized, and going from a mess the Innies made, to the Covenant directly after isn't exactly a walk in the park, especially when it reminds you of nothing but home. Carter’d never been to Jericho VII, but he remembered bits and pieces of his own home, and could guess at Thom’s. They were all brought into the program for the same reasons, anyway- the Covenant had destroyed their worlds.

"...Sir." Thom curls his hand around the little item, careful not to crush it, and nods, exhaling and inhaling a strong, steady breath that makes some of the tension go away.

Kat's voice crackles in a few seconds later. "Boss, we're in. Waiting on you and Six."

"We're on it," Carter assures, and jerks his head to where their ride is landing and Thom wordlessly follows.

FUCK YOU BRO

JUST

FUCK YOU

AND YOUR AWESOMENESS

/takes home.

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howkickassiam.livejournal.com - 2011-02-20 09:09 (UTC) - Expand

Requested by nie last night by phone laksf.

436 | Regina Spektor | Blue Lips + Carter&Anyone

__

Kat’s body weighs more than a thousand pounds in his arms, he thinks. At least, that’s how it feels; dead weight always feels more heavy than anything else, all things considered. It should be something that he’s used to, but he really isn’t, not when it’s members of his team he’s carrying away from battles they’ve won, but lost. The others get in the first Pelican, though Emile hops out and switches abruptly; Carter realizes why a moment later as the other Spartan helps get Kat’s limp body up and into the vehicle, without smacking her head or arms against things.

He doesn’t thank the rifleman; there’s a faint nod, and Carter wordlessly sets Kat down, a clear space in the back of the Pelican that is meant for weapons and ammunition, but it’s all they have. Her hands get folded over her stomach, and he arranges her with as much care as he can, knowing it’ll be a long flight. When he finally settles in the chair, Emile reaches out and holds his shoulder for a long moment, before both of them turn, focusing on what’s going past them out the window. Nearly three days of no sleeping finally catches up, and Carter falls asleep, leaning against the window, relieved to not have to look at the mess of glassed earth and ruined city.

Dot’s voice is loud in his ear, but he’s blocking it out, focusing on piloting, rather than making the AI happy. She’s demanding he seek medical attention, but even he can feel the wetness seeping into his basesuit, letting him know that no, medical attention isn’t going to fix massive amounts of internal bleeding.

Carter coughs wetly, blood spattering across the windshield and he wipes it off as best as he can, lifting them so Emile can have better aim at the Banshees following them. The biofoam keeps anything from hurting too badly-- it’s all mostly numb at this point, feeling like he’s moving through fifty pounds of syrup, body too heavy for the armor he’s wearing.

“Boss,” Emile says, just once, and Carter shakes his head, hearing Emile load another round into his gun to fire it. That’s all it takes- just one word, and Emile understands, even if he doesn’t like it. This isn’t exactly how he wanted things to go, but there’s not a lot of options, and Carter would rather see them get it done. They can’t save Reach, not this time around. They can always rebuild it later, but it’s lost, Carter knows that, just like Kat had, days ago.

It gets harder and harder to focus as time goes on, until finally, he knows what he needs to do. It’s only a matter of a few switches flipped, before the Pelican is on a crash course. He’s not going to survive- if he wasn’t so injured, he might have gone with them, but he can feel the blood dripping from his nose, can taste it on his tongue, and his right ear is ringing. He’s next to useless, all things considered, and he doesn’t want to get in the way of the mission.

Dot says something, sharp and likely along the lines of what are you doing, but he doesn’t hear it, too busy making sure the Pelican dips toward the Scarab, while he reaches for the dogtags nearby, tucking them under his armor, so they rest next to his. They’re Kat’s; he hadn’t had the heart to leave them with her body, and at least this way, maybe, they’ll survive the blast enough for someone to get them later on. It’s a far-fetched hope, but it’s something.

He barely feels the impact- it’s a scream of metal and an explosion of heat, for just the barest of seconds and then nothing, not even the dogtags surviving the blast.

Edited 2011-02-20 18:47 (UTC)

... Teamdaddy. :( :( :(

York + LadyMaine #2000

Carter + Jun #1221

Carter + random network shenanigans #999

EVERYTHING TAKES YOU BACK

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wow this is depressing?? also this was twice as long but i had to cut it down.

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this is such a fun song but so depressing too? why are all my songs depressing sflkas

idk man all my delta prompts were depressing

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