Archive of Our Own ^beta

He’s screwed three ways from Sunday. Or maybe they’re screwed three ways from Sunday. Sarah and he. Him and Sarah. Royally screwed ever since he sent down Majestic to stop her from assassinating Dr. Halsey.

No, that’s bullshit. They were screwed the moment Admiral Osman issued the order to assassinate Catherine Halsey, for reasons he still doesn’t want to think about. For a moment, just a tiny one, he’d considered asking Roland to split a fragment of himself off and go crawling in the ONI archives to find a reason, just any reason that might justify or at least explain the clearly wrong order Osman had given him. But he does value Infinity’s AI too much to sacrifice him to the ONI’s counterintelligence software.

Which leaves him with a seriously pissed off Sarah Palmer and possibly a seriously, seriously pissed off Admiral Osman. Of the latter he doesn’t know for sure since she hasn’t deemed it important enough to contact them since they lost Halsey a week ago yet. Or maybe she’s just so pissed off that talking to him might result in his immediate court-martial and execution by firing squad or something.

Of the former… yeah, he knows for sure she’s pissed off. The way she treated him when Glassman asked them to have a look at the artifact Halsey had thrown Thorne just before Sarah hit her spoke volumes. That and the fact that she’s been giving him the silent treatment for almost a week now.

In a way, he even understands. She probably feels betrayed by him, for sending a fireteam of her SPARTANs after her and keeping her from executing an order she took over for him. He’d probably felt betrayed, too, that’s not the point. The point is that she’s practically his second in command on this boat, even with Phillips actually being his XO and that the two leading officers onboard this ship just can’t afford a tiff like that.

Which is why he asked her to his ready room, just like he’d ask any other crew member for a private discussion of any issues having arisen. She’ll hate him for the formality.

There’s a knock on his door and for some reason he wouldn’t even have needed Roland to announce to him that it’s Sarah. Something in that knock just told him how pissed off she is about having been summoned like she were a junior officer who’s too green behind her ears to tell right from left and needs someone to set her right. He nods at Roland. “Let her in. And try not to eavesdrop until we’re done, will you?”

Roland snaps him a smart salute, saying, “Yes, sir. No eavesdropping, sir.” still sounding like he secretly thinks he’s going to be terminated before his time, probably still for that thing with Halsey and the override code. Good God, he’s not going to have to have a talk with his AI as well, is he?

Well… “Reporting as ordered, sir.” There goes his calm and collected approach. Sarah’s always full of tension but it’s really rare that she’s like that with him, all steel cord ready to snap and everything.

“Sarah…” She deviates from her staring straight ahead tactic, just a moment, and her expression is full of barely veiled “don’t fuck with me”. It lets his heart rate spike because damn, that might work with her SPARTANs and he isn’t one of those. He’s her fucking commanding officer. “Commander Palmer… please have a seat.”

“I’d prefer to remain standing, sir.” She’s obviously determined to make this as hard as possible for him.

Fine. Two can play that game. “And I’d prefer if you sat down. So sit the fuck down, Commander.”

It’s not that he doesn’t use profanity. It’s just that it’s usually less pronounced… and less directed at her. At least it seems to have the desired effect, seeing as she just sat down, her back ramrod straight, her gaze still straight ahead, kind of looking through him. He resists the temptation to sigh and roll his eyes. “So… I take it you know what this is about?”

Well, at least she stopped that thousand yard stare crap and is now looking directly at him, after all. “I don’t know, sir. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Not as hard as possible for him, then. Rather hard enough to make him want to punch her. They both know he wouldn’t even get as far as getting up from his chair, so he tries to treat this as an exercise in patience and benevolence, instead. “Look, Sarah…”

“I know what this is about alright.” Then why were you trying to mess with me, he wants to answer but she finally seems to have decided to drop the silent treatment. “This is about you still thinking I’m overreacting to you basically betraying me and undermining my authority with a fireteam under my command. And all that for someone like Catherine Halsey.”

He doesn’t really get it. Okay, yes, he gets the betrayal part because that’s how he would feel, too. What he doesn’t get is why she still thinks that order was justified and why she seems to unwilling, maybe even unable to realize that they’re still not the ONI’s willing henchmen. But making a concession never hurt anyone, either. “Look, I get that you’re upset about me commandeering Majestic…”

“I am not upset, Tom, I’m disappointed and pissed off because I don’t get why you would want to defend someone like that bitch.” She got it all wrong. So, so wrong.

Knowing how futile it probably is, he tries to reason with her anyway. “I wasn’t defending her. I…”

“You were keeping me from neutralizing her, yes.” Neutralizing. He never thought Sarah of all people would be given to ONI euphemisms. “I was about to do the fucking universe a favor, Tom.”

He can’t believe what’s going on here. This isn’t Sarah. It’s someone looking like her, using her voice to sound like an ONI agent. As much respect as he had for Admiral Parangosky he always knew he could never like someone who worked for ONI, let alone be friends with someone like that. He shakes his head, starting to become a tad desperate. “What’s happening here, Sarah? You’re a soldier, not an assassin.”

There’s this tiny moment when it looks as if she knows that full well herself, as if she knows exactly why this is so out of character for her and has a hard time not feeling ashamed for it. And then it’s being replaced by her SPARTAN commander game face, all hard eyes and sharp edges. “They were my orders, Tom.” Not… “No… no, they were your orders.”

Ah, not that again. Yes, they were his orders and yes, she volunteered – more like snatched them up from under his hands, no buts allowed, really – but he so, so wished she hadn’t. He had it all under control, really. “And I was prepared to go…”

“No, Tom, no you weren’t!” How dare she… “You weren’t prepared to go against Serin fucking Osman’s orders.” Why yes, he was, and why does she seem so desperate all of a sudden, desperate enough that she just jumped up. “You just think you were but you have no idea of the enemy you would have made and what she could have done to you. You…”

Something in this rubs him wrong. Maybe it’s that she sounds awfully much like she knows what she’s talking about when telling him about not knowing what kind of enemy Serin Osman is. He shakes his head again, half rising out of his seat. “What is going on here, Sarah? What is this really about?”

For a moment, it looks as if she’s going to tell him why she’s so agitated that it looks almost as if she’s deathly afraid of Osman but then she shakes her hand and says quietly, “Catherine Halsey is a war criminal, Tom.”

Suddenly… it’s all too much. It’s like something in him bursts up, something that is really, really fed up with being fed the same crap over and over again from her even though he just knows that she knows that it was a wrong order and that there’s something completely else behind her obvious zeal to shoot Catherine Halsey. He explodes. “And do you remember what we do with criminals? Do you? No?”

He’s up on his feet now as well, walking around his desk with brisk strides, nearly forgetting that even though he wants to go face to face with her, she’s still almost a full head taller than he is. Well fuck that. “So let me enlighten you. We don’t assassinate them. We put them on fucking trial!”

She wants to speak up again but a sudden realization strikes him. There’d been a reason that order unsettled him like that. Okay, despite the very obvious ethical implications. He takes a deep breath, trying to sound reasonable again. “Sarah… haven’t you wondered why CINCONI would order a battleship captain to have a prisoner disposed of instead of simply activating one of the probably dozen ONI operatives on this ship? Why would she do that?”

All she does is shaking her head and staring at him defiantly. “Orders, Tom. They were just fucking orders.”

Jesus fucking Christ, if she says that just one more time he’s gonna have her checked for some kind of brainwashing. That really doesn’t sound like the woman who’d refused to touch Cortana’s chip at point blank when ordered to by Del Rio. “As if orders were ever your strength, Sarah!”

She presses her lips together briefly before saying, “They are when it’s Serin Osman giving them,” in a quiet and controlled tone that would give him the creeps if he weren’t too far gone already.

As it is, it’s just one thing that really registers in his head. Something inside of him just went ice-cold. “Holy shit, Sarah, please tell me you aren’t one of her…”

“I’m not ONI.” The first thing he thinks is that it was too fast to be honest but then he registers the absolute conviction in it and the slight hint of disgust at him even thinking about the possibility that she might be a spook. He will never be able how exactly he knows that but something deep down in his guts tells her she’d rather be dead than an ONI operative. The feeling is so comforting that it does trouble him a bit.

“But I know when not to question a fucking order.” That wasn’t so much better than her admitting to be an ONI agent, actually. Really… “Seriously, Tom, you are so by the book usually with all that Corbulo “Axios!” crap bred into you and that inability to disregard an order…”

“Don’t.” Not today. Not ever. If she knows what’s good for her, for them she’ll shut up right fucking now.

She has no idea what’s good for them. “I just bet that you were a model cadet that couldn’t do a wrong step even if he… “

Something inside of him just fucking hurts when she says that. Something that lay dormant for many, many years, something that never really went away. He takes a deep breath and it’s nearly as painful as right after an episode of cryosleep. “Sarah…”

“Regular little tin soldier with his little rifle and his little armor…”

It just fucking hurts so fucking bad to hear her say that, say that like that with sarcasm dripping from it, right onto the fucking floor and settling there in a puddle, in a stain. “Out.”

“What, struck a nerve, have I?” Yes, godammit, deeper and harder than any friend of his should ever do and suddenly, he doesn’t even care about the things that might have driven her to never question orders from Serin Osman. “Where’s all that gone now that it is about that old…”

As if this is still about Halsey. “I said out, Commander.”

She stops in her ranting, like she just ran against a wall that she couldn’t break through, even with her armor aiding her. She narrows her eyes, stares at him and the look of disappointment and betrayal in them stings more than it should. “Fuck you, Captain.”

Doesn’t she see it? He’s doing this to protect them both from each other. Or maybe he would, if he were still thinking straight. Right now, he’s mostly protecting himself. “Get the fuck out of my room. Now.”

There’s no answer from her now, except marching past him, all pent up rage and frustration – as if it wasn’t she who just ripped open wounds that never really healed and not the other way around – and only seconds after the door closes behind her, he hears a heavy thunk, like something heavy just hit a bulkhead. Yeah. Better that than him.

Oh God, as if she would ever… “Maybe you should tell her about Circinius IV…”

No, not Roland, too. “Stop snooping around my personnel records, Roland. And didn’t I tell you not to listen…”

“…otherwise she will probably have demolished half the ship in three days.” Apparently, Roland still hasn’t really forgiven her for making a considerable dent in one of the terminals on the bridge a little over a week ago.

He sits down at his desk again, suddenly so very, very tired. “She’s a professional.”

“She’s Sarah Palmer.” Which doesn’t mean she would keep rampaging through the ship just because she sometimes reacts pretty violently to things that anger her. Even though being really, really pissed off with her for using Circinius IV as a fucking weapon against him, he still knows Roland is being unreasonable here.

Leaning with his forehead against his fist, he shakes his head. “Stop trying to have the final say in this.”

“I will. As soon as you take my advice.” Is everyone on this ship set to piss him off today? The only thing lacking is either Osman finally making an inquiry in how far they are with finding Jul ‘Mdama and Dr. Halsey or Halsey and ‘Mdama appearing out of nowhere with a couple Prometheans in tow to finish what they started over Requiem. Or, as luck would have it, both of the above mentioned at the same time.

Quiet. He needs quiet. Just for a few minutes, maybe an hour. Just quiet and maybe catching up on sleep lost over last week. Without looking at Roland, he drags out, “Leave me alone for a few, will you?”

“Captain…” And now Roland’s being all worried and trying to mother hen him.

He sighs. “Roland.”

Half expecting another attempt at being insistent on making him talk about Corbulo with Sarah, he’s actually surprised to see Roland snapping a salute a little less sharp than usual when he looks and saying, “Yes, sir,” before vanishing in a little cloud of particles.

He’s all alone now and the quiet he kept nearly praying for in the last few minutes is still eluding him. He groans, his head in his hands and starting to throb. Ah hell. Maybe he should just go back to working through the paperwork backlog that accumulated during the days in Requiem’s orbit. That should at least keep him occupied long enough to work out where to go from here. And what else can you do when you have a ship to run even when your brain can’t decide on which trauma to settle to keep you busy with today, anyway?

~*~

“Please, please, please, please, please
Not everything at once.
I’m losing my center
And that happened before.

A life of high-flight,
With foolishness and self-deception
Never enough, never enough.”

Selig, "Everything at Once"