Better not cry...

[piper90npcs]

Who: Everyone
What: Missions
Where: Ranging from the Rig to the North Pole and back
When: December
Warnings/Notes: Combat.

Sometimes, the holiday season passes without note. Sometimes it's the most eventful time of the year, capable of giving a poor stock worker PTSD. Fortunately for the Rig, they don't work in customer service. No, they're troubleshooters, which means that it's up to them to solve whatever problems Jorgmund points them at.

It just so happens that, this month, Jorgmund's using them less as a tactical nuke and more as a shotgun.

Comments

[infailtration]

York is at a disadvantage here, unaccustomed to fighting without Delta covering his bad side. South also has height on him but he's pretty sure he's faster as long as he sees her attacks coming.

There are a few assumptions he can make. She'll stick to his bad side, try to tire him out worse, and strike at full strength whenever she thinks she's got a hit. He can use all of that against her.

"Wish me luck, D," he says softly, before rushing forward to meet South.

[ownperson]

York's assumptions are correct: South immediately moves to come at York from his bad side without shame or hesitation, not only to attack but to force him to turn, to follow her movements.

Her fighting style hasn't changed in the years since they would have last trained opposite each other, that would have been as obvious back in Disney as it is here. Momentum, force, speed—any strike that hits will hit hard, but those that don't exert more energy than she can afford to waste.

So she's relying on those that do. Kicks and punches and targeted jabs coming from his blind spot. An attempt to sweep his legs from under him.

[infailtration]

It's not as vicious a fight as it probably would have been if they were both at full strength. York is aided by the fact that he pegged her absolutely correctly -- the hits that he can't dodge hit hard but South is exhausting herself faster than he is and he's able to avoid the worst of it just because she telegraphs her moves slightly. It's the same as she always did, he doesn't need to see her 100% of the time to know what she's about to do. He did always watch everyone train, after all.

Still, it's close, and takes awhile before he's got her down in the snow, a knee in her back to keep her down, one arm twisted up behind her. He's panting and feels leaden, but he won. He fucking won.

"Had enough?"

[ownperson]

South jerks around in a futile attempt to pull herself free and get back to her feet. But, the last of her energy exhausted and panting heavily from the exertion herself, even she can't deny that she's lost the fight.

Fuck. Washington was one thing, but now York too?

Still, knowing and admitting are two different things. Oh so maturely, she twists her head back and spits at him. "Fuck you."

[infailtration]

...was this all for nothing? York scowls, leaning more of his weight on her, pressing her down into the snow deeper.

"Come on, South, give him up."

He's not willing to go full Meta and pull Delta out of her head, so if she doesn't... well. This is a bluff. She can probably tell.

[ownperson]

South hisses and grits her teeth, shivering, but doesn't relent. Oh, she can tell. York's too soft to just take him, considering the damage it can do to just rip an AI loose, not just to the host but maybe even to the AI itself.

And she's not afraid to call that bluff. "The fuck are you gonna do about it if I don't, huh?"

[infailtration]

"....god fucking damnit, South, why do you have to be so stubborn?!"

He won't rip D out but still he holds her there, angry as anyone's ever seen him.

"Maybe I'll wait until you pass out and then tell him to transfer."

[ownperson]

South snorts derisively and shifts uncomfortably, her arm flexing in his grip. "The old override still fucking stands, dickhead. No external directives."

She'd made sure of that. It'd be too easy for York to try the same trick again when she wasn't paying attention, otherwise.

[infailtration]

York grits his teeth -- that's about all he can do here and it pisses him off so much. With a sound almost like a snarl he raises his free hand and punches South in the side of her head as hard as he can, knocking her unconscious... then getting up and kicking snow at her bloody face.

"Bitch. I hope you get hypothermia."

She won't be left behind, he's pretty sure, but he can leave her out in the cold.

[bothbarrels]

North doesn't realize that York had waited a little while before messaging him that South was out here in the snow. He heads out, in a rush to ensure she's all right out there. He might be upset with her, but he doesn't intend to let her get hypothermia or suffer even worse on his watch.

[ownperson]

By the time North reaches her, South's come back to consciousness, but she's disoriented and shivering, dusted over by snow. She remembers York hitting her and she'd almost be a little impressed that he did, if she didn't feel like shit because of it.

Been a while since she got hit hard enough to black out. Ugh, her head's spinning. Combined with the exhaustion, it makes trying to get herself to her feet on her own is a futile effort.

[bothbarrels]

When North reaches her, he can tell by the way she's moving that she can't rise on her own.

"All right," he says, crouching in front of her. "Let me see your pupils."

[ownperson]

South grumbles, but she's too out of it to protest more than that, looking North in the face for what's likely the first time since their argument.

Her disorientation is clear and she struggles to focus her eyes on him for a moment.

"Fucker knocked me out," she mutters.

[bothbarrels]

"So I hear," he says, nudging a lock of her hair aside so he can see her eyes better. After getting a good look he rises and offers her a hand.

"Come on, let's get you to medbay."

[ownperson]

South takes his hand on instinct and then immediately freezes as her conscious mind catches up, her muscles tensing and air hissing between her teeth.

For a moment, it's like she's deciding if she should let go and push him away, but... she doesn't. She lets him pull her to her feet, stumbling a little as he does.

She's angry, not stupid. Dying of an unnoticed brain injury because she didn't go and get checked out wouldn't help anything.

[bothbarrels]

He frowns, more concerned even than before, and does not release her hand.

"Can you walk?"

He moves a bit, to allow her to test out the response to his question.

[ownperson]

Stubborn as South is, she manages to take a couple of steps towards him before a wave of dizziness, exhaustion and nausea hit her all at once. She stumbles again, barely keeping herself from actually falling with her grip on North's hand and a reflexive grab at his arm.

It's obvious she won't make it far like this, undermining her grumbling response of: "I'll manage."

[bothbarrels]

"Maybe you shouldn't try," he says with concern.

He pauses then. Not because he's in any doubt about what the best course of action is, but only because he knows how unhappy it'll make her when he says so.

"I think you'd better climb on my back."

[ownperson]

South's grip on his arm tightens, perhaps painfully so, as her teeth grit with frustration. Fuck. Fuck. She hates this. She hates that she needs his help, after everything.

So it speaks to how rough she feels that her only protest is, "I can't fucking believe this shit..." before she groans and pushes him a little, indicating for him to bend enough that she can climb on.

[bothbarrels]

He does so, not chuckling as he might under other circumstances. She might have been an opportunist and interested in saving her own skin over anything else, but she doesn't deserve to die out here because of it.

Once she's on his back and safely balanced, he starts to walk.

"Try not to go to sleep or anything," he tells her.

[ownperson]

She clings on, tight. Tells herself that she's only doing it because she has to, that she'll slide off otherwise, but North has her perfectly secure and she knows it.

"M'not gonna," she grumbles, pressing her face into his back. She's still shivering. "I know the drill."

She breathes out, slow and shaking. She breathes and she clings, buries her face into the space between his shoulder blades, almost trembling in a way that's different from the shivering and yet easily excused.

Wonders when the last time it was they did this, or hugged, or anything, before everything changed irreparably. Isn't sure if she can't remember because it's been too long, or because of her scrambled head.

[bothbarrels]

"Good," he says. It means her head's not in so bad of shape that she hasn't forgotten that fact.

He really ought to keep you talking, too, but he doesn't know what to say to her. So he pesters her with the occasional "doing okay?" but otherwise leaves it at that.

[ownperson]

She almost wants to say something, anything. Break the silence, break the stalemate for real, even if that means starting another fight— anything to make this end, to stop feeling like she's lost the ground beneath her feet.

Because she knows what happens now. She knows that he'll take her to medical and stay long enough to be sure she's not going to die from some brain bleed or something. She knows that he'll make sure she's okay after, that she remembers how to take care of herself with a concussion.

And she knows that then they'll go back to how things have been since she arrived. That nothing will change.

What she doesn't know, refuses to know, is why she cares. She's free from him, isn't she? As free as she can be, with nowhere else to go. Isn't this what she wanted?

(It's a question she asked herself a thousand times back home, after everything ended. After he died. She never found an answer then, either.)

But she doesn't say a word, not any that mean anything. She answers every time he asks if she's okay, muffled in his back, and she grumbles. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less.

let me know if this is okay!

[bothbarrels]

They enter the rig, and he carries her to medbay. Makes sure she's settled in a cot, with a warm blanket and broth and other liquids. He sits by while the nurses fuss over her after her exam, and waits while she sips her broth.

"Feeling all right now?" he asks once it's been consumed.

[ownperson]

South puts up a little fuss as the nurses do their thing, but is otherwise well-behaved. Let's them do their examination, tests, whatever, if sometimes with a scowl on her face or grumbling vaguely under her breath.

She does feel much better than she did, wrapped up and with the broth in her. Warmer, at least.

"...better. Alright would be pushing it." She shuffles, adjusts her position. "Head still hurts like a motherfucker."