ORIGINALLY WRITTEN: June 2023
SUMMARY: — Antonia Perryman (Nomad) / Cole D. Walker —
Things have reached a tipping point, and the end is inevitable. Official investigations have launched, Walker faces reprimand, and Antonia finds herself at the crossroads of duty and doing the right thing. There's a lot of back and forth, both on an official and on an interpersonal level. Ultimately, it's best these two go their separate ways.
(A/N: I know fuck all about military court proceedings, and research only goes so far. That's not important, though! Also to be clear, I do not support Walker or the military <3 He is an asshole and the system is garbage.)
A spider could only weave so much web before it ran out of energy, or before the web collapsed in on itself, encapsulating the spider and binding its limbs together. Trapping it beneath the accumulated weight of all the silk threading.
Such was the case with Walker and Nomad, who now found themselves sat before top brass.
Even with all of their efforts to keep things situated, the death of Vaughan was too prominent to let slip under the rug. His daddy was a sitting senator, and it was people like him—with all the wealth and power in the world—that directly influenced what the military could and could not do. It was people like him who backed the very operations Antonia, Walker, and Vaughan saw themselves on. And to garner such negative press? Put their entire support system in jeopardy?
It wasn't going to slide.
Antonia knew that from the get go, and yet she still kept her mouth shut. Minded her own and tried to bury the incident in the back of her mind amid all the other shit that's happened to her over the years. God, was she stupid to keep believing that methodology would work.
Walker knew it too; he just didn't care. There was too much on the line to let some snot-nosed, spoiled, billionaire brat tell him how they should and shouldn't handle things. He was on a damned power trip, thinking he could kill a civillian then turn his gun on them like he did. And he had no qualms of letting his displeasure be known. Even under the scrutinizing gaze of his superior.
"We are here to complete a task, sir. Would you sacrifice our mission? Would you risk our lives just 'cause that kid's daddy is a senator?"
"You're out of line, Walker." The seated man's jaw clenched, gaze unwavering as the lieutenant's met his.
"What're you gonna do, sir? You gonna charge me?" Walker broke eye contact, opting to focus on the way the tent's wall shifted under the gentle breeze. "You know something that'd be worth it?"
Antonia's breath hitched as she caught the subtle shift in his words. The low growl that poisoned each statement. She shivered at the oozing determination, knowing damn well that, should he keep it going, it'd end in a screaming match. Or worse.
Yet that's exactly what Walker did. His voice raised as he spoke up again, taking the initiative and stealing the silence from their commander.
"This here's about what's right."
"What's right? Murdering an officer of the United States Army is right?!"
The commander's words carried power. Carried him forward as his hands came to rest on his thighs, only a mere push away from standing himself up and vaulting over the table to grab at his subordinate's throat. And even still, Walker didn't budge.
"What's right is getting an incompetent counterintelligence officer off the goddamn battlefield—"
The second Walker's hands left his back, the commander was up on his feet. Strong hands slammed on the metal tabletop, shoulders squaring as spittle flew off his lips. The shifted light from the shaken lamp drew Antonia's gaze to the fourth party in the room. The well-dressed man sat in the corner was silent as she was. Tensed, just as she was. They shared a knowing glance. Wordlessly acknowledged what was next to come.
"Who the fuck!—"
Walker stepped forward at the challenged posture, mimicking the squareness of the commander as he approached the table.
"What's right is protecting our mission—Protectin' it from a privileged brat who fucks our shit up worse than the enemy does!"
"Colonel, you cannot!—"
"What's right is standin' up for something—" Walker's hands joined the commander's on the table, knuckles ghastly white as he bit back the urge to cross the thin line between them. His voice lowered, words sharpening as he locked eyes with the officer. "—even if we got a sniveling hypocrite as a boss. A man with no balls. No vision!"
Antonia's gaze finally tore from the wall behind the desk, lips parting as she forced her voice from the pit in her gut. Her throat felt like it was tearing before she could even get a sound out. Felt like it was going to implode in on itself and suffocate her.
"Walker. Ease up..."
There was a brief silence as the man peeked over his shoulder, stance shifting as he caught the panic in her eyes. He knew that look all too well by now. All this screaming going on in a closed off space was hitting too close to home. He was only digging her a hole right beside him, too. He saw that now. Saw that the more he said, the more shit it would get her in. His jaw clenched as he lowered his voice again, turning his focus back to the commander.
"You listen to your friend, colonel." The officer eased off, though only just. "You're Ghosts, but you're not untouchable."
"I can't stand this shit anymore. Fuck are we doin' working for these assholes?"
Walker's words were venomous as he suddenly turned on his heel, glaring holes through the tent's flap. He stopped, stepping in close to Antonia as his breaths grew heavy. He was still beyond pissed. At the commanding officer. At all the red tape. Even at Antonia, who didn't dare break attention even as he invaded her bubble. He could see the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed a harsh breath. Her heart pounded as his eyes bore into her features, tearing at her very being in hopes that she'd break. That she'd drop the act and say something. That she'd back him up like she said she would.
But he could see now that she was more than willing to be complicit in the grand scheme of things. It really had been her last time sticking her neck out on the line for him.
"They don't care how hard we work, they got no fuckin' idea about what it is we do."
Antonia's eyes shut, breath hitching as she used everything in her power to clamp down on the tears that threatened to build. Now was not the time...
"Listen." Her eyes opened, resuming their fixation on the blank spot behind the commander. Her head turned just enough to bring Walker into her field of vision. It was as far as she could manage; she couldn't bear to look at him. "I stay because we do try to do what's right, okay?"
Walker's voice softened, just above a whisper. A comment addressed to her, and her alone. A final plea for something—anything else—to happen.
"You know this chain of command."
Nothing came of it.
"You god damn, sanctimonious bastards!" Walker's attention turned to the commanding officer, voice rising as his fury bubbled over. "You are a plague on this earth!"
Silence greeted him as he thought on his next words. As he tried to make sense of the shit storm that'd surrounded him.
"You wanna do what's right? Well you can." He turned back to Antonia, who refused to acknowledge. "Not here."
"Are you quite finished?" Irritability coated the commanding officer's words, patience long worn. Another outburst, and there was no telling what he would have done to silence the colonel.
"Yeah," Walker's voice broke as he turned his back on the commander and his witness. As he finally turned it on Antonia. "I think I am."
Not another word was spoken as Walker exited that tent. She spared him a glance as his shadow vanished into the night, allowing her thoughts to guide her focus. The commander didn't pay him any mind, slow to sink back into his seat and reach up into his breast pocket. Calloused fingers wrapped around the metallic lighter, thumb idly flipping the cap back and sliding forward over the ignition wheel. Skin just missed the sudden spark and flame, warmth grazing over the surface before it was trapped beneath the cold interior of the cap. He repeated the gesture, narrowed gaze landing on Antonia. Her attention snapped back to him, eyes briefly meeting his own before focusing on the movement of his hand. Silence lingered between the rhythmic clicks of the gesture, that of which broke any train of thought that began to brew beneath the surface. It was commanding in a way, demanding her attention be kept on him and him alone. Demanding that she speak up.
"... On behalf of Colonel Cole Denholm Walker, I—"
The commander shook his head. "Save it, Perryman."
"Yes sir. Was there anything else that needed discussing?"
"Considering you're the only other witness to everything? There sure is. There's the matter of your testimony, for starters."
Antonia glanced to the well-dressed man in the corner, who adjusted his positioning to grab a stack of papers from the suitcased tucked between his feet. She watched him closely.
"... I don't have to testify, do I?"
The question blindsided the commanding officer, his thumb lingering over the open flame of his lighter before suddenly slamming the cap down upon it. He watched her with disbelief, then turned to the other man, who cleared his throat before speaking.
"No, of course not. If I may ask—and this is purely for the record, and will not impact your employment nor the proceedings of this investigation—do you feel endangered to testify?"
"No." The answer was quick to leave the soldier as she watched the pen trail along the paper. It was routine. She'd been down this road before. "I do not feel threatened."
"I see... Again, solely for the record," he paused to glance toward the commander, who gave a curt nod, "I have to ask the reasoning for your refusal to testify."
"... I can't remember what happened. The second Vaughan pulled the gun, I blanked. I couldn't provide the court martial any new information. All I know is Vaughan and Walker had a talk, then Vaughan pulled a gun. After that, it's anybody's guess."
The suited man simply nodded as he wrote down the statement. The commander, on the other hand, grit his teeth together as he silently tore though her facade. He knew it was a bullshit response. He knew she was just covering Walker, even if he didn't know the why. Professionalism was the only thing that kept him from calling her bluff. These court people didn't know the depths of their operation. Didn't know how the relationship between them and the chain of command. Didn't know that Antonia was more than capable of recalling the event. And that would just make him look like a piece of shit if he said anything.
So he didn't. He didn't need to.
"Is that all, sir?" She asked, eyes just avoiding his.
"Yes." He spoke through gritted teeth. "You're dismissed."
Antonia nodded and stood tall, leaving the commander with a firm salute before exiting the tent. And in those few moments in the fresh air, it began to feel like she'd been hit by a truck. Her chest ached. Her hand trembled as she clutched at the coarse cloth of her uniform. Her feet just narrowly avoided tripping over each other as she stormed through the compound, eyes hastily darting around in search of a familiar face. Her breaths were ragged, though hidden beneath the ambient sounds of the night's proceedings. All things considered, she just looked focused to the untrained eye. Pissed off, maybe, but focused. In reality, though? She was a whole two seconds away from a total meltdown. She needed air. More of it? Less of it? She needed to get away from it all. Her vision blurred, partly due to the tears that coated her lashes, and the signals in her brain shutting down one by one. She was in survival mode. Her brain was pulling herself away from the incident. She could smell the stench of gunpowder and blood. She could hear the screaming match echoing. She could hear doors slamming and fists pounding.
And then it all stopped.
Firm hands grasped at her shoulders, her body practically crashing into the figure before her. It was suddenly lighter. Warmer. She was inside. There was quiet. Hazy greys scanned the immediate area around the figure, noting the familiar shapes. Miscellaneous wall hangings. A collection of photographs. The muted bedding. She was in the barracks. Walker's room. He'd let her in, but did she even knock?
"Walker..."
"You alright, Nomad?"
She took a breath and stepped back, slow to nod her head. She would be, that's what she told herself. All she needed was a minute to steel her nerves.
"Yeah... I will be. You?"
"Don't worry about me. I can handle my own shit."
"Walker—"
"Why are you here?" The question felt like a dagger. "Hm? Change your mind about things? You already know how this is gonna go down. I'm out, Nomad. Ain't no stoppin' that."
"Walker!—"
"It's over, Nomad. All of it. The bureaucratic bullshit, the back and forth... I told you. You can do what's right, but not here."
"Not with you, you mean."
Walker paused to take in the implications of the statement. He swallowed the rising urge to bite back at her, nostrils flaring as he drew in a breath to compose himself. Antonia let her attention falter, head hanging as she slowly sat on the edge of the bed.
"Yeah, not with me. No sense tryin' to convince you otherwise."
"... So what's your plan?" Her voice was faint. Dry.
"... Dunno. Still got some contacts in that private military group I mentioned sometime back. Might see if they have something available."
"Yeah..."
The colonel was equally slow to join her on the bed, though he'd left considerable room between them. He nudged a few pillows out of his way, letting them topple over each other behind him. There was a weight between them. A heavy silence that, if one looked hard enough, could almost be seen sinking into the space in the middle.
"You know, you can join me. Leave all this fuckin' mess behind. Go and do something meaningful. Actually help people."
"Torturin' people supposed to be meaningful?" Andontia adjusted herself, hoisting a leg up onto the bed and tucking it beneath her other. "Don't think I don't remember how you talked about them. The way you bragged about getting 'real results' when Vaughan wouldn't break the informant's leg."
"What's Vaughan got to do with this?"
"Nothing, now that he's dead." She shot her companion a look. "It's about the principle. You know I can't be doing that kinda shit, I got a family back home. Already bad enough if anything gets leaked, but torture? How the hell would I explain that to my kids, Walker?"
He scoffed. "Kids? They're grown. They can handle it. It's reality, Nomad. What really goes on, and what really works. We ain't no different than wolves. Fightin' for survival ain't some pretty picture."
There was no response, aside from a sudden burst of laughter. A harsh outbust as Antonia stood and shook her head. A hand reached up to rub at her forehead, fingers pressing firm against scarred skin. She couldn't believe it—no. She could believe it. It sounded so natural coming from him.
She just felt stupid that she didn't see any of it sooner.
Her hand rested on the doorknob, knuckles paling as she gripped at the cold metal. It took what felt like an eternity to finally pull the door from its position, letting the flickering florescent light of the hallway seep in. Took her even longer to find her voice again.
"Goodbye Walker." She paused, clenching her jaw as she fought the urge to look back at him one last time. She didn't have the guts. He didn't deserve the courtesy. "Just... Try not to get yourself killed, okay?"