Happily Ever After

"Gentlemen, looks like this is it."

No, this wasn't how he'd planned it.

"Sir, it's been an honor."

He'd miscalculated? How?

"Si muero, asegúrense de que mis piezas sean recicladas."

He just needed to think faster.

"I love you too, Lopez..."

He just needed one plan.

"Aw, that's so sweet... Now, let us strike fear into the hearts of our enemies, mwahahaha!"

One plan that would get them all through it alive.

"Smartest thing you've ever said."

Well... maybe not all of them.

"Yeah! Let's get 'em!"

He knew what he needed to do. "Hey, uh, I just want you guys to know that, out of everyone I've ever met... I hate you all the least."

"See you on the other side, Church."

Church sighed, his mind clear enough to settle into AI time as he dematerialized his sniper rifle. "Not this time, buddy."

Delta appeared next to him. "Are you... sure about this?"

Another sigh wracked his body. "I'm sure... start a recording for me, D."

The green AI hummed, a soft, sad tone, uncharacteristic for him. "Recording."

Church finally turned to face the guys, Tucker's visor stared back at him, undoubtedly with his trademark grin plastered across his face, the same grin that had infuriated him to no end in Blood Gulch. The same grin that he longed to see one last time.

"Hey guys... if you're hearing this then it means you did it. You won. You kicked the shit out of Hargrove's forces. I knew you could. But this is my last stop. See, when I came into this world, I was really just a collection of somebody else's memories." He slowly looked at each of their visors. "But with your help, these memories... they-they took form! They became my voice, my personality. And, after a while, I... I began to make brand new memories of my own. All of these things are what make me who I am... but they're also holding me back. I can't run this suit as Epsilon, but if I erase my memories, if I... deconstruct myself, the fragments I'll leave behind will have the strength to get you through this. I believe that."

The other fragments appeared next to him before dematerializing. "I wish that there was another way. But I'm leaving this message, as well as others, in the hopes that you'll understand why I have to go this time..." He felt himself choke on his next words. "Hehe, it was actually Doyle who made me realize something that I've never thought of before. There are so many stories where some brave hero decides to give their life to save the day, and because of their sacrifice, the good guys win, the survivors all cheer, and everybody lives happily ever after."

He stared deeply at Tucker's visor, almost as if looking at his face instead of the helmet. "But the hero... never gets to see that ending. They'll never know if their sacrifice actually made a difference." He began slowly shifting through his different forms. "They'll never know if the day was really saved. In the end, they just have to have faith."

The pixels holding his hologram together peeled away from him, before abruptly snapping back into place then ripping apart with a vengeance, making something akin to the sound of glass shattering as he fragmented. "Ain't that a bitch."

He had settled his mind, his regrets, his dreams that would never be accomplished, everything, to be able to help his friends- no, family, one last time. He'd crawl through hell for them; they were far past being mere friends to him.

The blank darkness that had greeted him seemed oddly comforting, no world or galaxy saving missions, just... nothing, only his thoughts. Which, admittedly, didn't seem to be a smart idea but he needed to sort out... well... everything.

It was strange to not have anything to do. After Blood Gulch and his stint at Outpost 48-A, he'd always had some mission on the forefront of his mind, to not have anything... was scary. But it also brought a sense of peace. He felt his mind empty slightly, the whirlwind of thoughts no longer present, more just a small trickle.

Everything was strange to him at the moment. He couldn't even tell if he had a body or not. He couldn't feel anything, but he swore he could move his arms and legs. He didn't even know how that made sense but it just felt right.

He really wished he could see what the Reds and Blues were doing. He had to know if they all made it out. A comforting thought came to him, that the guys were too stupid to know how to die. It made a warm feeling bubble inside him, followed by a feeling of wanting. He squashed that. He wanted to just revel in the fact that he trusted the guys to pull through, even Caboose, especially when he had Freckles in his hands.

And he could trust Tucker; he always could. Thinking back, Tucker had always followed his orders. He bitched and complained but he'd always end up doing it. He went through the malfunctioning teleporter multiple times for him, the first time had taken prompting but that was because it could have cooked him into ash. In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have pushed Tucker in until they determined he wouldn't die, but times were different, they didn't really like each other back then.

He could trust Grif to get them through, no matter the lazy front he put on. He could trust Simmons to come up with an exit plan; he had a knack for dramatic timing. He could trust Sarge to keep them alive even when he called them "damn dirty blues." He could trust Donut to do his damndest to thin out the enemy ranks, no doubt letting innuendo after innuendo slip out. He could trust Lopez to help thin them despite all his claims that he deleted them from his memory banks. And he could trust Doc to watch all their backs even with fake O'malley in his head because the guy cared because they all cared, no matter what they said or did; they cared just as much as he did.

They had survived and beaten Felix; they would be fine; he had to believe that. They'd taken on the fucking Meta and come out on top, not to mention all the Wyoming and Tex clones, and beating the shit out of Omega and Sigma. Defeating Charon would be child's play; he had complete faith in them.

The unfeeling feeling started to fade into a hazy sluggishness. His body felt heavy as he tried to curl his limbs in, but it was that feeling that brought him to his senses; he hadn't had limbs in a very long time. Slowly, ever so slowly, he opened his eyes, soft natural light warming his skin, a breeze gently ruffling his hair, while a hand ran their fingers delicately through his locks.

Above him, staring down kindly, were beautiful blue eyes that he hadn't seen in decades, that he never thought he'd see again. "Hey Church, you slept for a while. The guys are coming around 6:00, so we'd better make sure the house is at least tidy. You know how Simmons is."

He reached up, placing his hand on her cheek, rubbing his thumb slowly below her eye, tears in his own. She narrowed her eyes slightly, "Leonard, what's wrong?"

Wiping the tears away, he smiled softly at her. "Nothing Allie, everything's perfect. ...I love you."

She leaned over, kissing him tenderly. "I love you too."

A/N:

Let me know if you'd like to see a continuation of this story.