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ajremixTitle: Case File 01.045
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Rating: PG
Word Count: 731
Characters: CT, Director, Wash
Summary: An old, old snippet that I don't remember what I was doing with so I'm just going to put it up as it can, more or less, stand up on it's own. Takes place just before s9e7.
"Perhaps," the Director's tone and expression offered no room to deny him, "one of you could explain to me why not only Agent Oklahoma was killed but why the mission itself failed? Agent Connecticut, you were the leading agent in this mission, were you not?"
Wash broke in with an abrupt, "Sir, it wasn't her fault."
Connie was suddenly furious. Utterly, fire-spittingly furious. "It is my fault," she snapped. "It was my plan. I take full responsibility for Oklahoma's death and the mission failing." She could feel Wash looking at her helplessly, trying to figure out when she started pulling away from him, why she kept refusing his help.
He'd never understand. Mister Steady and Controlled, he could never know what it was like to be a fully capable adult treated like a child, someone whom everyone she worked with, everyone she respected thought they needed to protect.
They'd all turned on her in their own way: ignoring her misgivings, patronizing her criticisms of the Project, acting as if she couldn't understand what the 'grown ups' did. Because even this far into the program she was still making mistakes and everyone else had gotten so ahead of her that she was stuck chasing their shadows, knowing she'd never be their equal.
She'd always be the kid and she knew it.
The Director just looked at her and for a moment Connie almost believed there was a spark of pride in his eyes for her not taking the easy way out. But it was just the lights glancing off his glasses, projected by her own hopeless wishes. "I am quite aware of whose fault it is," he drawled coldly at the two. "But that does not explain why it happened in the first place."
"I made a mistake deciding our course of action," her voice was tight and harsh and ugly. Just like the helmet the Director had her wear. Just like her name that never glowed white on that blue board. "Maybe you made a mistake putting me in charge."
"Connie!" Wash leaned his fingers against the briefing table, trying to draw the Director's attention. "Sir, she doesn't mean that. She's just shaken up from-"
The Director's voice was sharp and unforgiving. "Agent Washington, jumping in to fight someone else's battle for them does no favors. Not for you and certainly not for Agent Connecticut." He lifted his head and stared at them from somewhere between disappointment and disgust. When he spoke it was like he was spitting at insects. "Dismissed."
The two snapped to attention, Wash thrumming like a string pulled too tight, Connie like a tower about to crumble down. She strode out of the room, running from the ghosts of her failures and from Wash who called after her. His hand curled on her shoulder but she tossed it off and kept her eyes focused on the rapid succession of her boots over the floor until they began to blur. She cut the helmet's intercom, letting her tears and quiet sobs echo inside her ears alone. She didn't know why this failure stung so much, why Wash's attempts to protect her felt like such a betrayal.
But it did and she just... she couldn't care anymore. It was as if her compassion had drained out of her, one tear at a time. Carolina's indulgent smiles, York swiping her an extra bit of dessert, North making sure she was included in their activities, South griping to her about life in general, Wyoming's stupid jokes, Maine laughing at her dry comments and Wash just... being Wash. The memory of it all had long lost its ability to give her warmth but no longer did they sit like ice in her stomach, either. It just left her numb.
Connie found herself in the locker room and she pulled off her helmet, wiping her face with a black gloved palm. She looked up at the sign that dominated the hall and spilled into the room. Each name was a foot tall, mocking and cruel. A constant reminder for those trying to jockey for position and favor and for those that would never reach those heights.
She was numb but her mind was clear. It was so obvious what the Director was doing. And small piece of her wondered if she should be glad that she was no longer a part of that.
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Rating: PG
Word Count: 731
Characters: CT, Director, Wash
Summary: An old, old snippet that I don't remember what I was doing with so I'm just going to put it up as it can, more or less, stand up on it's own. Takes place just before s9e7.
"Perhaps," the Director's tone and expression offered no room to deny him, "one of you could explain to me why not only Agent Oklahoma was killed but why the mission itself failed? Agent Connecticut, you were the leading agent in this mission, were you not?"
Wash broke in with an abrupt, "Sir, it wasn't her fault."
Connie was suddenly furious. Utterly, fire-spittingly furious. "It is my fault," she snapped. "It was my plan. I take full responsibility for Oklahoma's death and the mission failing." She could feel Wash looking at her helplessly, trying to figure out when she started pulling away from him, why she kept refusing his help.
He'd never understand. Mister Steady and Controlled, he could never know what it was like to be a fully capable adult treated like a child, someone whom everyone she worked with, everyone she respected thought they needed to protect.
They'd all turned on her in their own way: ignoring her misgivings, patronizing her criticisms of the Project, acting as if she couldn't understand what the 'grown ups' did. Because even this far into the program she was still making mistakes and everyone else had gotten so ahead of her that she was stuck chasing their shadows, knowing she'd never be their equal.
She'd always be the kid and she knew it.
The Director just looked at her and for a moment Connie almost believed there was a spark of pride in his eyes for her not taking the easy way out. But it was just the lights glancing off his glasses, projected by her own hopeless wishes. "I am quite aware of whose fault it is," he drawled coldly at the two. "But that does not explain why it happened in the first place."
"I made a mistake deciding our course of action," her voice was tight and harsh and ugly. Just like the helmet the Director had her wear. Just like her name that never glowed white on that blue board. "Maybe you made a mistake putting me in charge."
"Connie!" Wash leaned his fingers against the briefing table, trying to draw the Director's attention. "Sir, she doesn't mean that. She's just shaken up from-"
The Director's voice was sharp and unforgiving. "Agent Washington, jumping in to fight someone else's battle for them does no favors. Not for you and certainly not for Agent Connecticut." He lifted his head and stared at them from somewhere between disappointment and disgust. When he spoke it was like he was spitting at insects. "Dismissed."
The two snapped to attention, Wash thrumming like a string pulled too tight, Connie like a tower about to crumble down. She strode out of the room, running from the ghosts of her failures and from Wash who called after her. His hand curled on her shoulder but she tossed it off and kept her eyes focused on the rapid succession of her boots over the floor until they began to blur. She cut the helmet's intercom, letting her tears and quiet sobs echo inside her ears alone. She didn't know why this failure stung so much, why Wash's attempts to protect her felt like such a betrayal.
But it did and she just... she couldn't care anymore. It was as if her compassion had drained out of her, one tear at a time. Carolina's indulgent smiles, York swiping her an extra bit of dessert, North making sure she was included in their activities, South griping to her about life in general, Wyoming's stupid jokes, Maine laughing at her dry comments and Wash just... being Wash. The memory of it all had long lost its ability to give her warmth but no longer did they sit like ice in her stomach, either. It just left her numb.
Connie found herself in the locker room and she pulled off her helmet, wiping her face with a black gloved palm. She looked up at the sign that dominated the hall and spilled into the room. Each name was a foot tall, mocking and cruel. A constant reminder for those trying to jockey for position and favor and for those that would never reach those heights.
She was numb but her mind was clear. It was so obvious what the Director was doing. And small piece of her wondered if she should be glad that she was no longer a part of that.
