[ While it might scream 'trap' to a younger Locus, this one knows better. Even in isolation, Agent Carolina would not broadcast an attack this broadly. Particularly not with both of them now in the Legion.
He assumes she's part of the Legion, at least. Washington is. That undoubtedly would have had some bearing on the matter. ]
Carolina will be waiting in said hallway - leaning up against the wall,
arms folded. She's wearing her Legion uniform - it responds to her powers,
unlike her armor currently. She's waiting for them to upgrade that.
She looks up when she hears him approach, standing up straight, and
squaring her shoulders. She doesn't look angry, entirely - more like she's
pensive, maybe a little unsure.
He doesn't think he's seen her face-to-face before. Circumstances had never allowed for it. There's a fierceness to her gaze even while she holds herself calm and at the ready. An intensity that suddenly makes a few things a little clearer, where York is concerned.
But they're not here to discuss that. He hopes.
One thick eyebrow lifts as he makes his way towards her. No weapon. No armor. Sign of the times, Carolina. Would she even recognize him in what could be defined as 'casual' wear, jeans and a leather jacket, with a shirt in that tell-tale shade of sage green?
She'll be honest - she only recognizes him based on the fact that he's
where she asked Locus to meet her, the general height, and - that scar.
It's a mirror of his helmet. She wonders if he chose the helmet, or if the
scar came after. She wonders who gave it to him.
She also doesn't know about York, not yet. Thankfully, that conversation
will come another time.
Carolina tilts her head up a little in greeting. Then, both greeting and
confirmation, "Locus."
The voice is all the confirmation she needs, really. It doesn't relax her,
though. She knows what Locus did - what his actions caused her to lose. She
also knows that he's been trying to repent, that he's come back and helped
her team, and her.
Mixed emotions is quite an understatement, right now. Instead, she says,
"We do."
Which is followed by silence, an awkward one, before she speaks a moment
later, staring straight at him.
"Grif said I'm the furthest along here. I need to know when you're from, so
I can figure out where to start."
"Three months after your victory over Hargrove on Chorus."
It says the least, but answers her question all the same. He was similarly wary with Washington, though he had more cause then than he did now.
Still. If she's further along than him, who's to say what the future held? Did he hold true to his course? Or does she have every reason to believe that he's resorted back to being the monster he once was?
She barely waits for him to finish his own sentence before she provides her own. It's been ten months since that - ten months since she lost Epsilon, the only person like a brother to her, the only remnant of her father that she had left. Since she listened to a recorded message, ain't that a bitch.
Her hands curl into fists, but she takes a deep breath. Whatever she's feeling, she doesn't immediately inflict it onto him.
"And, in that time," she says, the cadence of her voice unsure, "We didn't hear anything from you - which suited us just fine. Until Washington and I, and the others, got into trouble.. and you came to help us."
That seems to be the part that she's struggling with, her expression more mixed now as she's looking at him - like she's trying to see some part of the person that comes and helps her.
Ten months. Seven months into his future, and it shouldn't seem like such a span of time, but he knows better. He knows that in that time, he would have had the opportunity to prove just how determined he was to forge that new path, or how willing to fall back into old habits.
She holds the answer. And she doesn't withhold what he then immediately longs for, the truth spilling out seconds later. The relief is palpable. He lets the words sink into him before his shoulders go slightly slack, his expression easing somewhat.
He's held true, then. Whether it's a change rendered here when he inevitably returns, or whether it was the result of his own conviction, it doesn't matter.
That he asks if he was successful surprises her, just a little bit. The way his face slackens, his expression easing - he looks different, like that. There's too much between them for her to ease the same way, but if nothing else, the confusion settles into a neutral expression - no wariness.
"... You got us out. We'd been in armor lock for six days - we thought we were hallucinating at first," she tells him. "We were resting, you told us what you'd been up to," And this she isn't exactly sharing, yet, "And left to go get the others."
He won't ask. It's tempting, but nothing good comes from knowing too much of what lies ahead. It's enough to know this shred of truth, this absolute certainty. Six months ahead of where he is now, and it's where he should be.
Locus nods once. "That explains why you were willing to meet me alone, at the very least." Washington had done the same, but in a far more confrontational manner.
"I still have mixed feelings," She tells him honestly, and she doesn't need to explain why, she hopes. Genocide, on a planet-wide scale, even if they were only fanning the flames as Felix said. The loss of Epsilon, although he may not have been aware, was still something she somewhat laid at his feet.
"But I'm the last one to judge someone for doing what they can to change." He had even said that, not that she's going to admit it.
There's a pause, a brief bob of his throat as he swallows, obviously searching carefully for the words he wants. "...I realize I cannot undo my actions. But if it were possible, I would."
He's said the words before, to York. Washington knows, he thinks. But Carolina knows little, unless they've spoken far more at length in her portion of the timeline than he thinks. It is important that he say them.
Therapy, as it turns out, has had some positive change on him over the course of the last few months.
"For what you and others have lost because of my actions, I am sorry. I do not expect forgiveness as a result, but...you should know that, at least."
It is, suddenly, a lot for Carolina. Sure, she has been working on
processing her own feelings, making her own amends. She still isn't used to
amends being made with her and the emotions she feels are complicated, not
easy to pick apart. Anger is an easy fall back but - not this time,
Carolina.
"... Thank you," she says at length, still looking at him and looking very
tired, weary. Shs doesn't promise to forgive him but she does what she can,
at least, to acknowledge what he is doing.
"You told me you stopped killing," she finally says. "I wanted you to know
that I'm doing the same. Not because of the Legion. I'm tired of death,
Locus."
It's a raw nerve to admit but - it is the closest he will get to an olive
branch at the moment.
"I wasn't certain it would be possible, when I arrived here. I knew what I wanted, and perhaps it was easier knowing that we were being ordered by the Legion to withhold lethal measures."
Training wheels, as it were. But that's not all, is there. His heavy brow dips, furrows.
"But I am more than my orders. The path is not easy, but it has become easier to travel with allies. With...friends." He considers her a moment, pale eyes taking in that tired look, the tense way she's held herself together and how exhausting it must be.
"There are those here willing to help. The things we have done, the ways we have been broken, do not mean we cannot become better over time. Washington has found assistance through them. As have I."
It's a suggestion that isn't. He has no right to tell her what she should do, but the option is there and of use, considering her aim.
"I know," she says, too quick and sharp be an acceptance before she sighs.
"I mean.... I know, and I have to go see them. Just need to accept someone
picking my brain that isn't going to use it against me."
Washington being an ally, that doesn't surprise her. Grif and Tucker had
told her that Locus was on their side, with varying degrees of feelings on
it.
"I'm glad its... working for you." And she is; it isn't an empty platitude.
"A hard thing to accept. I would have not have done so voluntarily." And he'd all but lassoed Wash into going as well by refusing to go unless he did. But the results amount to about the same.
"While I would not trust them blindly, the Legion seems to be doing good work, and cares about the well-being of its members. And I am not surprised in the least that they chose you," he adds, crooking a brow higher.
"It took longer than I would have expected, in fact."
"They are like any large organization. Issues will arise. But on the whole?" He shrugs mildly. "I would call it an improvement."
Perhaps for her as well, given what he knows about Freelancer. No one's chasing their dead wife's ghost, at least not that he's aware of.
"I've done what I can to prove that my intentions to repent are sincere. Washington seems to believe it so. Captain Tucker seems to be coming around to the idea, though I imagine he still bears a grudge and will continue to do so for some time. Captain Grif does not appear to care one way or the other, whether he knows or not."
Another shrug.
"The rest of the Freelancers...it seems less relevant. They did not know me for what I was before, as you did."
Yeah, she definitely has less issues with The Legion than she had with Freelancer, even if she had been blind to some of it until the end.
"Tucker has his reasons," She says, automatically defending a team mate - especially given how close he had been to Epsilon, which is the same reason she herself has mixed feelings. Along with everything else, but one almost takes the personal thing as more important.
At the statement of other Freelancers, she gives a little laugh, finally, though there's an edge of bitterness to it.
"To be fair, we weren't the most discriminating anyways. If there's any gang that can turn a blind eye, it was us."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text;
text;
Do we?
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Yes. In person.
[ a moment later : ]
I'm not going to hit you.
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Where?
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Habitat deck, south entrance.
[ quiet, not public hallway. ]
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He assumes she's part of the Legion, at least. Washington is. That undoubtedly would have had some bearing on the matter. ]
Very well. I will meet you there shortly.
[ And he cuts communication. ]
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Carolina will be waiting in said hallway - leaning up against the wall, arms folded. She's wearing her Legion uniform - it responds to her powers, unlike her armor currently. She's waiting for them to upgrade that.
She looks up when she hears him approach, standing up straight, and squaring her shoulders. She doesn't look angry, entirely - more like she's pensive, maybe a little unsure.
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But they're not here to discuss that. He hopes.
One thick eyebrow lifts as he makes his way towards her. No weapon. No armor. Sign of the times, Carolina. Would she even recognize him in what could be defined as 'casual' wear, jeans and a leather jacket, with a shirt in that tell-tale shade of sage green?
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She'll be honest - she only recognizes him based on the fact that he's where she asked Locus to meet her, the general height, and - that scar. It's a mirror of his helmet. She wonders if he chose the helmet, or if the scar came after. She wonders who gave it to him.
She also doesn't know about York, not yet. Thankfully, that conversation will come another time.
Carolina tilts her head up a little in greeting. Then, both greeting and confirmation, "Locus."
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The cadence is there, even if the eerie resonance of the helmet is missing. He tilts his head forward in a slight nod of acknowledgement.
"You wanted to speak."
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The voice is all the confirmation she needs, really. It doesn't relax her, though. She knows what Locus did - what his actions caused her to lose. She also knows that he's been trying to repent, that he's come back and helped her team, and her.
Mixed emotions is quite an understatement, right now. Instead, she says, "We do."
Which is followed by silence, an awkward one, before she speaks a moment later, staring straight at him.
"Grif said I'm the furthest along here. I need to know when you're from, so I can figure out where to start."
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It says the least, but answers her question all the same. He was similarly wary with Washington, though he had more cause then than he did now.
Still. If she's further along than him, who's to say what the future held? Did he hold true to his course? Or does she have every reason to believe that he's resorted back to being the monster he once was?
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She barely waits for him to finish his own sentence before she provides her own. It's been ten months since that - ten months since she lost Epsilon, the only person like a brother to her, the only remnant of her father that she had left. Since she listened to a recorded message, ain't that a bitch.
Her hands curl into fists, but she takes a deep breath. Whatever she's feeling, she doesn't immediately inflict it onto him.
"And, in that time," she says, the cadence of her voice unsure, "We didn't hear anything from you - which suited us just fine. Until Washington and I, and the others, got into trouble.. and you came to help us."
That seems to be the part that she's struggling with, her expression more mixed now as she's looking at him - like she's trying to see some part of the person that comes and helps her.
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She holds the answer. And she doesn't withhold what he then immediately longs for, the truth spilling out seconds later. The relief is palpable. He lets the words sink into him before his shoulders go slightly slack, his expression easing somewhat.
He's held true, then. Whether it's a change rendered here when he inevitably returns, or whether it was the result of his own conviction, it doesn't matter.
"Was I successful?"
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"... You got us out. We'd been in armor lock for six days - we thought we were hallucinating at first," she tells him. "We were resting, you told us what you'd been up to," And this she isn't exactly sharing, yet, "And left to go get the others."
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Locus nods once. "That explains why you were willing to meet me alone, at the very least." Washington had done the same, but in a far more confrontational manner.
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"But I'm the last one to judge someone for doing what they can to change." He had even said that, not that she's going to admit it.
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He's said the words before, to York. Washington knows, he thinks. But Carolina knows little, unless they've spoken far more at length in her portion of the timeline than he thinks. It is important that he say them.
Therapy, as it turns out, has had some positive change on him over the course of the last few months.
"For what you and others have lost because of my actions, I am sorry. I do not expect forgiveness as a result, but...you should know that, at least."
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It is, suddenly, a lot for Carolina. Sure, she has been working on processing her own feelings, making her own amends. She still isn't used to amends being made with her and the emotions she feels are complicated, not easy to pick apart. Anger is an easy fall back but - not this time, Carolina.
"... Thank you," she says at length, still looking at him and looking very tired, weary. Shs doesn't promise to forgive him but she does what she can, at least, to acknowledge what he is doing.
"You told me you stopped killing," she finally says. "I wanted you to know that I'm doing the same. Not because of the Legion. I'm tired of death, Locus."
It's a raw nerve to admit but - it is the closest he will get to an olive branch at the moment.
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Training wheels, as it were. But that's not all, is there. His heavy brow dips, furrows.
"But I am more than my orders. The path is not easy, but it has become easier to travel with allies. With...friends." He considers her a moment, pale eyes taking in that tired look, the tense way she's held herself together and how exhausting it must be.
"There are those here willing to help. The things we have done, the ways we have been broken, do not mean we cannot become better over time. Washington has found assistance through them. As have I."
It's a suggestion that isn't. He has no right to tell her what she should do, but the option is there and of use, considering her aim.
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"I know," she says, too quick and sharp be an acceptance before she sighs. "I mean.... I know, and I have to go see them. Just need to accept someone picking my brain that isn't going to use it against me."
Washington being an ally, that doesn't surprise her. Grif and Tucker had told her that Locus was on their side, with varying degrees of feelings on it.
"I'm glad its... working for you." And she is; it isn't an empty platitude.
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"While I would not trust them blindly, the Legion seems to be doing good work, and cares about the well-being of its members. And I am not surprised in the least that they chose you," he adds, crooking a brow higher.
"It took longer than I would have expected, in fact."
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There's a part of her that's surprised he complimented her so readily. The other part is feeling smug about being complimented at all.
"Yeah, they and I aren't going to see eye to eye on a lot." Like their recruiting age. "But they do seem to want to good."
She tilts her head a little. "I'm glad you're getting a chance." Not because of his skills, just for him. Even if she still had mixed feelings.
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Perhaps for her as well, given what he knows about Freelancer. No one's chasing their dead wife's ghost, at least not that he's aware of.
"I've done what I can to prove that my intentions to repent are sincere. Washington seems to believe it so. Captain Tucker seems to be coming around to the idea, though I imagine he still bears a grudge and will continue to do so for some time. Captain Grif does not appear to care one way or the other, whether he knows or not."
Another shrug.
"The rest of the Freelancers...it seems less relevant. They did not know me for what I was before, as you did."
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"Tucker has his reasons," She says, automatically defending a team mate - especially given how close he had been to Epsilon, which is the same reason she herself has mixed feelings. Along with everything else, but one almost takes the personal thing as more important.
At the statement of other Freelancers, she gives a little laugh, finally, though there's an edge of bitterness to it.
"To be fair, we weren't the most discriminating anyways. If there's any gang that can turn a blind eye, it was us."
And yet, somehow, she sounds fond, not annoyed.
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