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autisticblueteam · 7 years

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Coming Back (Alpha/Maine)

[AO3] [Ko-Fi in Bio]

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 5513

Summary: Neither of them should have survived, and yet here they are. Coming back from this will take time. And a little company.

Notes: So we can all blame the lovely @herecomesthesniperbutt for this because it was her who was writing the Alpha that sent us diving deep into this ship and this AU. This is sort of based off an out there ‘theory’ (more of an AU) around a certain part of the new season, of which none of the details turn up in this early part, but...

This was finished at midnight and is unedited. Forgive any mistakes, I might edit it later.

Warnings: Disassociation, Self Harm (first part, unintentional)

They didn’t know how long it took them to finally claw their way onto the solid ice at the bottom of the cliff. It had to have been hours. Hours of dragging frozen fingertips, barely protected by kevlar, across thick layers of snow and ice trying and failing over and over again to gain some purchase. Hours of barely holding their head above the freezing water, no helmet to protect their face from the burning cold of the air around them. It was at the bottom of the dark water, far beneath them, alongside the other pieces of their armour.

It was a miracle they’d pulled it all off in time.

But they’d made it.

As they collapsed on the ice their chest heaved; it was a strain to breathe, the air biting at their throat and their lungs and stealing itself away again in an instant. The ice was bitter against their back; the kevlar offered so little protection with its integrity so compromised, with the holes burned through either side, the assorted other tears and slashes. With nothing between their skin and the snow, the back of their head hurt the most and eventually they had to force themselves to sit up, just to lift it away.

But the pain didn’t stop.

The burning cold of the contact faded away, but the pain in the base of their skull blossomed. Growls broke past gritted teeth as agony spiralled out from their implant site, from every one of the fried chips buried along their spine, burning trails through their nerves and the feeling of−

Something stirring in their head.

A snarl ripped up their throat, raw and frantic. No, no, no no no it was gone, it was gone− the EMP, it fried−

“Wha− What? Where am I−?”

Their hands flew to their head, jagged, uncared for nails clawing at their scalp dragging angry red lines across the skin, thin trails of blood bursting to the surface. No. No no no it was supposed to be gone, it was supposed to be gone! Get it out get it out they had to get it out−

“Ow! Ow fucking− hey! Cut that out!”

Get out get out− the scratched harder, tearing at the wounds that had already begun to form. Blood under their nails. Blood running down the sides of their head. It stung but they had to get it out, somehow, they had to get it out!

“Fuck, no, don't fucking kill me I'm sorry I’m sorry−”

It wasn’t going away. It wasn’t going away but the clawing hurt, it hurt too much and eventually their hands fell away. Nails and fingertips raw and bloody. In their head, the voice repeated the same thing over and over: don’t kill me, I’m sorry, don’t kill me, I’m sorry. Over and over and− Nearly a year, nearly a year since the EMP since it fried, went silent. Why now? Why now?

Energy gone, they collapsed back against the sheer cliff face. They sunk down, curled into a ball and buried their face in their hands as weak, distressed growls escaped them. They didn’t understand. They didn’t understand.

The presence in their head−whatever it was−slowly stopped repeating itself, and for the briefest moment their head was silent. No voice. No thoughts. Silence. Silence and the overwhelming feeling of a fear that wasn’t entirely their own. Whatever this was in their head, whatever twisted remains of that thing that had taken them over− it was scared.

Where am I? Where− Where are the others? All those AI? Wasn’t there an EMP? Am I actually a ghost? Ha, fucking take that Washington− Wait, wait, that’s not just my fear, is− is the Meta scared of me?

EMP. Washington. Meta. It’s voice. It didn’t sound like Sigma, Sigma always referred to the Meta as ‘we’.

…Whatever it was, they wanted it out. Why was it there why−

“Hey, hey, uh, I don’t know why I’m here either?” It was replying to them. It was replying to them. And this time the voice was followed by sharp stabbing pains, sparks of agony somehow running through their mind as whatever this was tugged at something, tried to pull away. They made quick, sharp growls, gritting their teeth through the pain. Go away why wouldn’t this thing go away? “I’m trying, fuckdammit−”

They didn’t want this. They didn’t want this. Didn’t want to be that again, didn’t want to be taken over didn’t want to be that again−

“Don’t wanna be− Wait,” there was a pause, “who am I talking to?”

Silence. Their mind raced. Who were they? Not the Meta. Not that. Never that. That had never been them, the chaos in their head that grew with everything that it made them take, made them add. That was gone. That was gone.

But who were they?

They didn’t know. They didn’t know. They didn’t know they didn’t know they didn’t−

“Hey, hey, hey, uh. It's uh− it's okay? I'm not− I'm not the mess that was in here earlier. It's kinda... Quiet, actually?” Then, quieter, almost to itself, “…Maybe that's why I'm not so tired?”

They didn’t know who they were. They didn’t know who they were. Distressed growls rumbled up from their chest. Why didn’t they know who they were?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! Promise, I’m not the thing that was in here before, I uh− I’m Church. Or… or Alpha, I guess?”

Alpha. Alpha. That was what it wanted. The Alpha. A chorus of voices, all repeating that name over and over and over and−

“Holy shit I just keep making everything worse. Uh, it’s okay, that’s not what’s here. It’s dead. Gone.” The voice was strangely… calming. None of that allusive undertone, nothing that hinted that it was trying to make them do anything. All it had asked so far was who they were. It hadn’t told them to do anything, didn’t demand an answer. “Uh… deep breaths, big guy. Deep breaths. …That’s supposed to help, right?”

They grunted. But tried the breaths anyway. Slow, deep inhales and exhales, curling their body in on itself around the burning sensation of the icy air. Better. Hurt, but better.

“Okay. Okay, that’s progress. Uh…” There was a flicker of light, over their shoulder. Barely daring to glance up, they saw the holo of this… Alpha, hovering over their right side. White. Barely stood out against the ice and snow. “…Jesus fuck, is that blood?”

Blood. They frowned, tilted their head down and− Oh. Right. That blood. Two bleeding wounds, directly through the right side of their chest.

That’s not good.

“Shit shit− You got any bandages? Shit. Uh. Get something to press on the wound, I think. I don't know how I know that, fuck−”

They didn’t have anything. Their armour was at the bottom of the dark blue water, out of reach and damaged beyond simple repair. The ice was bare. There was nothing. So they pressed their hand hard over the wounds, as much pressure as they were capable of. It didn’t do much to stop the stream of blood down their chest, and did nothing for the blood running down their back.

“Fuck. Okay, okay− Gotta move. We’ll find something, big guy. Promise. Can you move?”

It was tough, but they were able to push themself up to their feet. Their legs shook; their head spun; their vision danced and blurred in the face of so much empty white. The water was a dead end, and behind them−

A sheer cliff.

“…Well that’s going to be a problem.”

It took hours for them to pull themselves up the sheer wall of ice, their fingers numb. It felt like hours before they managed to pull themselves to their feet, dragging themself across the distance between the cliff’s edge and the broken husk of the Mother of Invention. A trail of blood stained the snow they left in their wake, red on pure white; a sight that had the feeling of panic flooding over from Alpha’s thoughts to theirs.

They weren’t scared. Something told them that this wasn’t enough to kill them.

But they didn’t know why.

Yet ignoring the panic wasn’t easy, there were no walls between Alpha’s mind and theirs; without anything in its way it seeped into their thoughts, their feelings. Panic pushed its way through them, until their legs stumbled beneath them as they tried to move faster, get to the ship quicker and−

They tripped over their own feet, and everything went black.

When they came around, they were inside what appeared to be a medical bay.

Frowning, they slowly pushed themselves up. They glanced around; definitely a med bay, as in disrepair as it was. The beds were flung around the room; medical equipment scattered everywhere; everything leaning towards one side where the room seemed to tilt. It was cold, too, and dark; no lights were on, and the equipment was all inactive. This bay was dead.

“Hey big guy.”

A flash of white over their shoulder. They growled, swatted out reflexively at the holo that hovered there. “Hey! Hey its just me, big guy! I’m on your side, remember?”

Oh. Right. Alpha.

Here in the darkness of the bay he appeared much clearer than he had out in the snow, a little holographic suit of armour not unlike any other AI unit they’d seen. Except, at least, he wasn’t projecting a helmet.

“How you feeling? You’re uh, all bandaged up now, at least.”

They frowned. Glancing down at themself they saw the bandaging spread across their torso, faint red stains where the holes in their chest were. Oh. When did that happen?

It still hurt. Faint under the haze of everything, but still there.

“There’s some painkillers, if you need them? I don’t know if they’re strong enough but uh, best I could find.” The holo disappeared and reappeared by a small bottle on the tilted bedside table, gesturing vaguely. “These fuckers.”

Hesitating for a moment, they reached out and grabbed the bottle. Scanning the label, something told them that they would do little for them. Still, they made a soft rumbling sound−a thank you.

“No problem, big guy−uh, okay, that reminds me. Introductions. So, like I said, I’m Church. Or Alpha. Whatever. What’s your name?”

Name. Their name. Furrowing their brow they tried to think, but everything was… fuzzy. Distant. They remembered the Meta, they remembered the fight that sent them into the water− but that was it. Everything else was blank.

‘…Don’t know.’

Alpha visibly jumped; the first time they’d directed their thoughts at him specifically since waking up.

“Oh. Okay. Is it okay if I just keep calling you ‘big guy’, then? At least until I think of something, y’know, better. Fuck, I never was good with names,” Alpha said, words drifting into a tone that sounded like they weren’t quite meant for them to hear.

Big guy. Something about that felt… familiar, comforting. Every time he’d used it so far, it hadn’t felt insulting or wrong. So they nodded. Big guy was okay.

“Okay. Okay.” Alpha breathed out, a gesture that they figured was more out of habit as it couldn’t be of any need. “So. I have no idea where we are.”

‘Sidewinder.’

…How did they know that?

“Sidewinder? …Okay. Well, that’s a start. I don’t want you to move with that fucking injury, but I don’t know if there’s any food or fresh water in this place” A pause, “I guess snow is always an option water wise…?”

Alpha kept rambling, his voice and his thoughts both echoing around their brain. Loud. Consuming. But not… forceful, not deliberate; this wasn’t like it, the way it pushed its way into their head and blocked them out from their own body. Their thoughts coexisted with his. It was just loud, louder than everything that the fuzziness covered.

They shifted awkwardly on the bed, withdrew into themself without even really meaning to. They couldn’t figure out what to do with their limbs, they all seemed so− disconnected, from the rest of them.

Really, so did their entire body.

“…Hey,” the buzzing of thoughts dulled, the single word cutting through the haze, “you okay, big guy? I mean, uh, relatively.”

‘Hospitals.’ The answer was a reflex, a reflex that was matched by their hands moving in a sign. ‘And don’t feel… in my body.’

“Oh. There’s nobody here but me, big guy, no doctors and shit. And, uh,” a pause, filled by the dull thrum of his thoughts, “…like, disassociation? Fuck, I don’t know why I know that either.”

‘Maybe. Confusing. S’like being… disconnected.’ Like their limbs weren’t theirs, like their body was moving independently of their mind. Like someone else was in control, again. That was terrifying. ‘…Still a hospital.’

“Suppose that’s fair. Uh, once you’re more healed we’ll move to one of the rooms? I saw some on the way here. Bunks. Should be easy enough to get into,” Alpha said, tapping his little holographic foot against the floor. They looked at him, properly, watched the face he projected flash through the feelings of confusion and awkwardness that they felt in their head. “And, well, I’m here if you need me?”

That startled a small huff-like laugh from them, ‘…Thanks.’

“Alright big guy, sit tight, I’m gonna try something. Without pulling myself out of here because that is not fucking working,” Alpha said. A moment later he continued, in that same tone that suggested he was speaking more to himself than to them, “Can an AI be in two things at once? Who fucking knows…”

There was the sensation of weight lifting from their mind, a presence still there but weaker, as lights began to flicker into life. Medical equipment turned on and off around them, a side effect of whatever Alpha was doing, and the indicator above the door flashed on, ‘open’.

As quickly as it had lifted, the weight settled back in their mind, “Okay, there’s some military rations. That’s something. When’s the last time you fucking ate?”

Good question. A memory drifted just beneath the haze, a grey armoured arm and an offering of food that was thrown away. It left a sinking sensation in its wake. Who…?

‘…Don’t know. Long time.’

“Fuck. Think you can walk? You should eat. Drink. Y’know, human stuff.”

Another huffy laugh escaped, ‘…Walked here. Think I can manage.’

They slipped out of the bed, their legs shaky beneath them; the wound still hurt, a dull throbbing of pain spreading across their chest, but they’d had worse.

If only they knew how they knew that.

“Okay, giving you a map,” Alpha said, as he somehow did just that−a somehow they’d rather not think about. A map appeared in their mind, complete with a marker that pointed them to an open space down the hall. It wasn’t far. They could make it.

It appeared to be an old rec room, in a similar state of disrepair to the med-bay. The marker was directly over an old storage cupboard, the door of it hanging open and a variety of rations packets strewn around the counter beneath it. They crossed the room, picked one up and−not really fussy about the contents−tore it open.

Within a few minutes it was prepared. They sat down on the securest looking seat, face twisting with distaste as they took the first bite. Nevertheless, they pushed through and continued to eat. Food. Warm food.

“Take it slowly, okay? Too much at once and you’ll woof your cookies.”

A third huff of laughter. Alpha had a way of saying things. ‘Am eating slowly.’

It wasn’t overly satisfying, probably barely safe to eat if it was at all and leaving an aftertaste that they couldn’t say was pleasant. But it was food. Right now, that was all they could ask.

“That’s better! Okay, wanna try some water? The taps still work, I think. At least in this area.”

‘…Guess so.’ They moved carefully, food settling in their stomach, and filled a container with water. The first sip was tentative, but when it didn’t taste strange they gulped it all back in one big swallow.

“Hey hey! Take it slow! Again, cookie-woofing is a danger here.”

‘…Way with words.’

“I try.”

Filling the cup again, they took smaller sips. In the silence that surrounded them as they drank−nothing but the sound of whistling wind and creaking metal−they found that the haze came back, all-consuming and making them feel fuzzy around the edges. As their hands disconnected from their sense of their body, they set the cup down. Just in case.

‘…Blurry,’ They thought, after a moment. ‘Everything. In my head. Just remember… it,’ the Meta, the monster, ‘…not me.’

Because that wasn’t them. The Meta. That wasn’t them.

“…I’m a little blurry too,” Alpha said, with the weight of something that he was finally saying aloud. “We’ll work on it, okay? Together.”

Together.

They should be scared. They should fear this AI in their head, the thing that the Meta was searching for all that time. Or at least, seeking to recreate. That echo of that name, surrounded them as the EMP primed and blew− they should be scared.

But together didn’t sound bad.

‘Okay.’

After a few days, Alpha decided it was better if they moved to a room closer to the food. There were bunks in the hallway connected to the rec room, easily accessed by directing power to one of the doors and overriding the need for a key-code. He didn’t push them to move, letting them go at their own pace. They appreciated that.

Much of their days were spent curled up atop the barely big enough beds, wrapped in the blankets that they’d managed to gather from the other rooms. With everything still so fuzzy, their body not quite feeling theirs most days, it was easier not to move. Cocooned in blankets, a separate world from the dark grey of the dormant Mother of Invention, it didn’t feel quite so bad. It was warmer. Safer.

For the first few days Alpha spent a lot of time offline, recharging from his dips into the ship’s systems. When he was around, he’d talk to them, distract them from the situation with stories−about Red and Blue soldiers, tucked away in a box canyon. Alpha’s fuzz faded away so much quicker than theirs, memories coming back to him and his tiredness fading away the more time that passed. They were almost… jealous, of how much Alpha could remember, when they remained oblivious to even their name.

But the stories were entertaining. And they seemed to make Alpha happy, maybe a little sad too.

“I think I was a bit of an asshole.”

They raised a brow, ‘A bit?’

“Oh, shut up. Thanks for the encouragement.” But there was a smile in his voice, and in his thoughts, and they almost managed to smile back. “…Go back there, if I could. Maybe try and do it all right. Instead of being an asshole.”

Somewhere in the back of their mind, part of them felt the same.

Days passed. Alpha’s presence became comforting, familiar, despite the circumstances. With more energy he’d stay online longer, chat their ear off about this and that as they sat in their blanket nest; as they ate or drank or changed their bandages; as they started to work out despite their wound, trying to keep themself occupied.

When he came online that first day, to find them on the floor of the bunk doing sit-ups, they swore they caught a thought of his, a thought that was buried faster than they could analyse it: Holy fucking shit I am too bi for this.

And though they’d felt heat rise to their cheeks, and though Alpha’s attempt to hide it had only made it more conspicuous, neither of them brought it up again.

Things were getting easier, little by little. Of course, some days were better than others. Some days Alpha’s presence was too much, despite the care he took not to push and despite the friendship that built between them. Some days, the memory of the Meta drove them both into their own corners of their mind.

Some days, they barely remembered what had happened since the cliff.

One day, Alpha came online to find them deeper into the husk of the ship than they’d ever gone before.

By now he knew them well enough to recognise the state of disassociation that they’d slipped into. Usually their episodes resulted in a day spent under the blankets, not eating, not sleeping, certainly not moving− but now here they were, deep into the Mother of Invention and well past several damaged areas that Alpha had thought impassable. Wandering, but as if they had a destination in mind.

Alpha didn’t interrupt them. Curious to see where they were going.

They moved as if on auto-pilot. No matter the damage in their way they fought past, dragging themselves through debris and up onto the floors above them. Wind whistled through the cracks in the structure, metal creaked dangerously, louder the deeper they headed. Eventually, Alpha was on the edge of stopping them, bringing them up from this state as best as they could−

And then they stopped at the end of a hallway, lined with doors. Doors with nameplates and numbers.

A flash of a memory. The bunks. “…Oh.”

They headed down the hallway, barely glancing at the signs that they passed.

[1] Agent Carolina

[2] Agent North Dakota & Agent New York

[3] Agent South Dakota & Agent Connecticut

And the fourth door, the door that they stopped in front of−

“Agent Maine and Agent Washington,” Alpha said, finally breaking the silence. “Wait, Wash was that other guy. So…”

A low grumbling sound reverberated from Maine’s chest, bouncing off the walls of the empty hall. They automatically typed in the key-code, muscle memory, but the damage to this area of the ship was so extensive that Alpha had never even tried to reconnect the power. Before Alpha could point that out, Maine had forced it manually.

“…Big guy? Uh− Maine? You okay?”

Still too deep. Maine held the door open long enough to get inside, letting it seal shut behind them. That could be a problem later.

For now, the problem was how dark it was. Alpha’s holo flickered into life beside Maine’s head; they flinched at the bright light, casting the room in shadows. It was a simple room but, much like the rest of the ship, everything in it had been thrown around. A sideways incline had sent everything toppling against one wall, the beds cluttered together amongst a variety of old belongings that had fallen out of the few pieces of furniture attached to the walls, the doors flung open.

Maine stared at it. Looked around.

“…You looking for something, big guy?”

Eventually, they caught sight of something. Walking over to the collided beds they knelt in front of an old footlocker, caught on the legs, forcing open the latches and swinging the lid open. Alpha hovered closer, his light letting them see. A frown etched itself into their features, and they started to rummage around.

Slowly the frown began to fade, until after barely half a minute they pulled something from the box−an old data-pad, carefully considered and then placed beside them. Their rummaging began again, until this time they pulled out something smaller− an old pair of dog tags.

Oh. Alpha hovered closer, careful not to get in the way as they lifted the tags into his light.

Agent Maine. A code of some sort. A blood type.

“…Hey,” He sounded gentle. “That’s you.”

Maine nodded, very slowly, but they nodded. Rubbing their fingers across the lettering, they made a few quiet rumbling sounds. Deep, familiar. They were coming back up. ‘…Me. Yeah.’

“I think we should take these back to the room. It’ll be more comfortable to look at the data-pad there, huh? Whadaya say?”

It took a moment, but slowly they nodded, pushed up to their feet. For a long few seconds they stood there and stared, taking in the room around them. Their eyes travelled over the wardrobe; the beds; the bits and pieces strewn around the floor. Blankets; rare physical photos; some clothes; a couple of stuffed cat toys.

“Anything else you wanna bring, big guy?”

They decided to take some clothes, old hoodies and sweatpants and underwear that would be much more comfortable than the damaged kevlar they wore now. In their mind, Alpha made a quiet hum of approval and there was this sensation of… comfort. A sort of pressure against the parts of their minds where they were connected, offering reassurance in a way that made the tension seep away from their shoulders. It should scare them, but−

Maybe they stopped being scared of each other a while ago, now.

Finally, they turned and left−snagging one of those old stuffed cats as they went−setting off on the journey back to the safer parts of the crashed ship. Without their auto-pilot to guide them, they had to wait for Alpha to construct a map to make any progress, but they made it. Eventually.

They wasted no time in stripping away the undersuit, careful around their wound, peeling it away from their body and tossing it across the room. It was of no use to them, now. For a moment they stood there like that, examining the scar tissue that had begun to form over the wounds in their chest, before grabbing their old clothes and starting to re-dress.

Alpha pushed another thought deep, deep down.

Deep down.

…Okay, not that deep down.

All in one breath, and before he could even stop himself, Alpha blurted out− “So like are you single?”

There was a startled huff, a pair of wide brown eyes staring as cheeks turned red and−

Cue internal screaming.

Internal screaming that Maine could definitely hear, because this mental link of theirs was so strong that Alpha still hadn’t figured out how he was supposed to block things from them. Internal screaming that took the form of yelling at himself− Church you fucking dumbass bi why are you like this?!

“…Sorry,” He said, eventually, his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to actually say that.”

Maine shook their head, swatting playfully at Alpha’s holo. It was fine. Even if they had to cough, a little, just to compose themself. When they pulled a face moments later, it wasn’t at Alpha; thought knitted their brows together as they laid the items they’d collected out on their lap. As they tried to remember.

‘…Blurry, still,’ They thought, holding up the ragged black and white cat plushie−ice covered, a little worse for wear. It was familiar. Somehow.

“That’s a cute plushie.”

A faint noise of agreement. Settling it back on their leg, they brushed away the ice. Alpha’s holo flashed out and then reappeared by the stuffed toy, little holographic hands reaching out as if he were petting it. Maine smiled.

‘…Familiar, I guess.’ Brushing their thumb over its fur, over its nose.

“Yours? Or that Washington guy’s?”

They scratched behind its ears, as if it were real, ‘Not mine. Must be his.’

“Huh. Guess he’s less of a grump asshole than I thought he was. Then again…” His helmet disappeared, flashing a grin up at Maine. “…You didn’t exactly turn out like I expected, either.”

Maine chuckled, a genuine sound that made Alpha’s grin grow. ‘Thanks. I think.’

“Definitely a compliment, big guy.”

A playful poke to his holo made him laugh in turn, batting out at their hand just as playfully in return and clambering into their palm. Maine let him. They’d discovered a while back that the connection they shared made it possible to almost feel when Alpha’s holo touched them, a faint sensation that grew stronger only when you were aware of it. It was strange, but it was one of many things that over the weeks that had passed… they’d gotten used to.

‘…Don’t know if this will work,’ Maine thought after a moment, picking up the pad on their leg. ‘Iced. Power’s probably dead.’

“Want me to see if I can start it up?”

They considered it, for a moment, ‘…Try.’

Alpha’s weight on their mind lessened, just slightly, as his holo disappeared from their palm. Bit by bit, the data-pad warmed in Maine’s grip, until the screen flickered into life− with Alpha on the screen, wearing a cheesy grin and waving. If nothing else that earned him a laugh, a smile, and a wave in return.

‘Thanks.’

All at once Alpha’s presence returned, accompanied by a gentle pressure−mental snuggling, almost, an extension of that feeling from earlier. It was… nice. Comfortable. He settled there contently for a moment before responding, a small, “Any time, buddy.”

The data-pad wasn’t perfect. There were damaged pixels in the screen, bits of ice in the edges, and it was slow to load− but it was working. Their old files were still there, everything from chat logs to mission reports to old e-books and old photos. Alpha popped up on their shoulder, watching the screen curiously as they pulled up the old photo files and started to look through.

‘…Old stuff. From the Project.’ It was coming back. The Project. Project Freelancer. ‘…My team.’

A stirring in their connection made them frown, but Alpha pushed it down. A faint feeling of discomfort lingered, but there was no mention of it, and so Maine didn’t push.

Instead they flicked through the photos. Colourful armour, colourful clothes, smiling faces and ridiculous antics. Memories, memories that Maine had wanted to preserve sometime years before now. Of the good times. Of a family.

Seeing it now, it almost hurt.

“Hey. How about you tell me some stories?”

There was a faint flash, Alpha’s holo flickered out. When he reappeared, he was bigger−human sized, significantly shorter than Maine−and lacked armour, choosing instead to project clothes. Maine frowned, but didn’t have time to question him before he reached out and brushed uselessly at a tear that rolled down their cheek.

Crying. They didn’t really do that much.

“Like I told you. Stories. About the good shit. I know it won’t stop the bad shit that’s coming through but− maybe it’ll help?” He continued, offering a smile. “I can even sit in your lap.”

There was a teasing tone, there, a self-deprecating humour in the words. A tone that didn’t expect the answer that Maine gave, after it sank in.

‘…Think I’d like that.’

“…Wait, really? Like, seriously?”

‘Really. S’worth a shot. And company’s… nice.’

Alpha stared, a long look that had Maine raising a brow, before− “Y’know I totally did not expect an actual answer to that but y’know what? I’ll take it.”

Maine sat back, and Alpha’s holo clambered onto their lap. The sensation was there, that odd feeling that their connection gave them stronger than ever as he settled there. Yet it wasn’t intrusive. It felt… natural. Odd, in the lack of weight and the lack of solidity, but… still natural.

And that was how they sat, for hours. There was file after file on that old data-pad, and a story behind every image. A prank; a movie night; a training session; a mission; a day of shore leave. Friends, family, the people that mattered the most even now they were gone−even with the painful thoughts that fought their way up with every reminder that they were gone.

That for a while, Maine was gone, too.

But here, in the wreckage of what there used to be, Maine was coming back. They’d been coming back, slowly, ever since they clambered out of that ice water and been given the chance to fight their way back through that haze that had left them a husk, left them doing everything they could to feel complete again.

Since they’d finally been given the time and care they needed to heal.

“Wow. You were such a fucking nerd.”

Even if it was in the form of another glowing asshole.

It would be another few weeks before they were able to leave the Mother of Invention. People had started poking around, digging deeper into the ship and finding signs of life. Not only that, but the food was running out. Whether they wanted to or not, they’d need to move soon.

Over those weeks the two only grew closer. Maine’s memories returned in droves, the good and the bad, and the pieces of how this had happened started to slot into place. Complicated, complicated pieces that slotted together in some fucked up jigsaw puzzle−all ending in an Alpha that had somehow reconnected with the fragments that had been torn with them, and a Maine that had finally been freed from the Meta.

“So, big guy. You never did answer me. You single?”

Maine glanced at Alpha where he sat in their lap, brow raised, ‘…Not anymore.’

…and maybe a little something new.

#rvbrarepairweek #alphamaine #agent maine #leonard church #rvb fic #rvb #red vs blue #my fanfiction

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