By the time the pelican carrying Wash and Carolina got to the Staff of Charon, the fighting was over. The battle had been won. They picked their way through the corpses strewn throughout the ship to find the Reds and Blues cheering, battered and bloody but celebrating their victory. All but one, that is. Tucker was wearing Maine's armor -- Wash did a double take, but supposed he shouldn't be surprised that Charon somehow had it. The past always seemed to come back to haunt them except in this case it had been a good thing. It had saved them. Except Tucker wasn't cheering.
Turns out, as fast as they could wasn't fast enough.
Maybe if he and Carolina had been up there, they could have saved Epsilon. That was all Wash could think about on the ride back down to Chorus, watching Tucker with his head in his hands. The defeated hunch of Carolina's shoulders. It was all he thought about as they weaved their way through the joyful armies to get back to their barracks. He hesitated as everyone split off but ultimately went to follow Tucker, opened the door to his room to see him throw Maine's helmet against the wall and crumple to his bunk.
Wash stood in the doorway for a long moment before stepping inside and closing the door behind him, crossing to pick up the helmet and look at it. He'd never expected to see it again, and like this... he was having a lot of feelings, none of them ones he wanted to entertain at the moment.
"I'm surprised it fit you," he finally comments, setting the helmet down on Tucker's dresser reverently. "Maine was a big guy."
It was bitter; he couldn't help it, a joke that didn't have the passion most of his witty comebacks did, the most lost in a growling mourning. The suit was heavy, heavier than he was used to; his speed was hindered now that it was quiet, so fucking silent in his head, in the helmet, in the confines of metal and mesh. He hated it. Even aqua, he hated it.
This wasn't his, and he didn't want. This thing? This fucking thing? It was Church's coffin.
There was a flicker of the dark eyes up to Wash, looking at him as if he expected a lecture when Tucker wasn't in the mood for it. Probably shouldn't have been far off from the truth, but the Sim Trooper didn't let it stop him from starting to strip it all off, starting with the gauntlets, right and then left. The sound they made when they hit the ground was loud, cutting through the sounds outside.
"Why aren't you out partying with the rest of them? I mean, I figured even Freelancers were allowed to drink at least once in their life as long as they did triple laps the next day."
Wash huffs at that -- Maine was not small in the crotch -- and would try to joke back if the moment didn't feel so delicate. If he wasn't suddenly thinking about Maine rolling over in his grave at Tucker's comment, and the fact that his friend probably didn't even have a grave. Wash bets they dragged the suit up and dropped Maine right back in the water. Fuckers.
He watches Tucker strip the armor off for a moment before crossing to the bunk and sitting beside him heavily, pulling off his own helmet and letting it hang from his fingertips.
Why is he here?
"Because I didn't want to leave you alone right now," he answers honestly. There's nothing he can do. He can't fix it. Doesn't even think he'd be any good at offering comfort, and certainly isn't the right person to commiserate. But Tucker shouldn't be alone.
Chest plate next. Legs. Everything off until he was in his kevlar undersuit and standing there as if he had nowhere to go. He wasn’t sure he did. Why hadn’t he figured it out the second it happened, hadn’t he recognized that Epsilon gone during the fight? Why hadn’t he been able to stop his stupid fucking sacrifice? Why hadn’t Tucker fucking brought everyone home like he wanted to? Like a good leader would have?
It was so fucking quiet and empty.
Wash, thankfully, filled up some of that space, refusing to leave him to the heavy silence and the memories. To the way Tucker didn’t say he was sorry. To the moments when he resented Church not remembering things that he had done with Alpha. To the fear when Epsilon left with Carolina and he thought… he thought he had lost those assholes again because abandoning him was what Churches did best.
Fuck, it hurt.
Tucker sat down beside him, heavy and tired and looking at where his hands rested between his knees. “Tell me about how shit went down for you.” Anything had to be better than the narrative in his own head.
They hadn't really had a moment to breathe, since reuniting. To catch up beyond the necessary explanations of what the mercs and their separate armies were doing before launching straight into their missions. There was no time to waste on sentimentality, though when he'd returned Freckles to Caboose he'd realized... just how much he'd missed the others. How much he now needed these people in his life. Especially one, who he was headed to find now that Carolina was patched up again.
He's caught off guard when Tucker actually wants to talk about what's wrong. And the fact is, he did screw up the mission. Wash listens to his friend's rising distress. How he cites Wash telling him to try to be better, which apparently stuck. "--I mean, how are you supposed to know if you're making the right call?"
"Well... you don't. There's never really a right or wrong answer. You just have to stick with what you think is best."
"But what if what I think is best totally sucks?"
"Then you learn from it and you try again."
"Oh my god, it's like you people are on a fucking loop."
Wash shifts his weight, still not certain he's the right one to be talking Tucker through this shit. Maybe none of them are -- or maybe knowing just how badly he's fucked up makes him perfect for it. He was awful, and they've more or less accepted him anyway, because he's trying. "Tucker, I know you're frustrated. But you have to realize that making mistakes is just part of the deal. Even with everything you've screwed up, look at how far you've made it. You're not the same person you were back in Blood Gulch."
"Is it bad that I kinda wish I was?"
"Yes. You were a terrible excuse for a human being." It's a bad joke, and honestly he barely even knew the person he's talking about -- but the mood is so heavy he has to make any attempt to lighten it.
"Hey!"
"I'm kidding!"
"Fuck you, dude! I'm over here spilling my guts and shit and you're cracking jokes? That's messed up."
Yeah, maybe he misstepped. Tucker doesn't really sound upset, though, not any more than he was before. Not about this in particular. So he stands by his joke, throwing a comment back that Tucker's accused him of many times before. "Now who's melodramatic?"
"Man, I shoulda just left your ass with the Feds."
"...I'm glad you didn't." Wash admits it quietly, glad that his helmet is hiding his expression at the moment. "You guys probably shouldn't have risked a rescue mission, especially knowing how well equipped the Federal Army is. But you came for us, and I know you were the leader, Tucker. So thank you."
Four little words. Four, and Tucker was surprised that they ever heard the light of day. Because that sentence led to more and suddenly the Sim Trooper thought he was being praised somewhere in the middle of that, tangled up with gratefulness and other things.
Tucker breathed. Or maybe he thought he did because what the fuck, Wash? What was he supposed to say to that?
"Dude, you're family. Of course we're going to come."
It wasn't just family, though. Oh, to the others, sure; they all wigged the fuck out while Wash and significant portions of Red Team were missing, all of them just as determined as Tucker to get those puzzle pieces back, without hesitation. But they didn't stay up at night, wondering what the hell kind of torture he was being subjected to. They weren't running over all the words he had said before he was gone, or the way he fucking looked across the warzone when he told the robot to shake. They didn't get people killed just to return Wash to them.
He didn't fully get what it all was until later, until he was standing there with everyone else, looking at that familiar gray and yellow helmet with the surprise and gratitude and just relief when he saw him alive. Rescue mission, but who was saving who?
Didn't matter. Wash was alive. Wash had been alive.
And between the moment when they met up again and now, that was when all the other bullshit started to filter in: bad decisions, choices to put his trust in the wrong people, plans that fell apart. How Wash would look at him, knowing how bad Tucker fucked up. How much--
Fuck, he cared what Wash thought. He cared...about more than that. The relief never stopped being there. The way he could suddenly breathe again. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It meant something. Something. A Thing. Tucker didn't do Things.
"I mean, you were coming for us, too, right? You know you couldn't stand staying away from us."
He smirked, that cocky little shitty smirk he did. It was good at hiding the rest.
Family. Right. Of course they are -- the others, at least. That's how Wash sees everyone else, too, and he pushes away the little sting of disappointment that it's how Tucker sees him. He accepted it already awhile ago, that his feelings needed to stay a private secret, so he moves past it now, nodding.
"We were. You just beat us to it."
And there's something to that. He hadn't been alone this time, hadn't been tortured or even really been much of a prisoner, so it was different. But circumstances aside, he can't really articulate how important it was that someone came for him. That it was Tucker leading the charge just adds more feeling to it, and Wash knows he should just push it down and get on with the situation at hand, but. Tucker can't understand. He doesn't know that Wash has been left behind before. And that last time, when he actually needed the rescue, no one came. He hadn't mattered enough to anyone.
It changes so much inside him to know that now, he does. And he can't even explain it. Because it's upsetting, and it involves Epsilon and Carolina, who Tucker's made peace with at the moment but still isn't really happy with. Wash isn't going to dump this on the other solider. It's his burden. His issue.
"Don't get a big head about it. I just needed to say that." He stands a little straighter, as if he could lift his head above the waves of emotions that he needs to keep in such tight control. "Are you ready to head back? They're probably interrogating the space pirate that came along with us."
For a minute, Tucker thought Wash was going to say something more, something weightier, something heavier, something that had been on his shoulders in ways that Tucker hoped. He held his breath so subconsciously that he didn't know he was doing, but there it was when he was letting it out. Head back. Just needed to say it.
Well, fuck.
"You know we're always going to come, right?" No, he had no clue about the MOI, what happened with Freelancer; some things were always kept close to that trained chest. But Tucker needed to say it as much as he needed to hear it most days, this thing hanging over him where he kept losing everyone: Alpha, Wash, and Epsilon with Carolina fucking off. He hated it, hated it, but Wash going missing--
"I mean, I'm not fucking around. I will do whatever I have to get you back." Wait. That sounded-- "Um, from shit like that."
Right. Smooth.
"I...did some shit I'm not proud of while you were gone."
Wash had thought they were done, honestly. That Tucker would nod and following him back to the others, maybe chewing on the conversation a little to himself. But instead he keeps on the topic, and Wash isn't sure if it's an incredible insight into his headspace or something else. For a moment he's worried it's the former, and that Tucker will keep pushing until he knows the truth, which he won't like. Luckily, he keeps speaking. Something tight and annoyingly hopeful flutters in Wash's chest at the next statement, but then an admission. And his focus shifts back to Tucker's well being entirely.
"I do now. But I hope this was the last time you ever have to." Something about the way Tucker says he'll do whatever he has to makes Wash worry. About if there ever comes a time it's not worth it to chase after him.
As for the admission, he hesitates. The fact is, it's war. Everyone does shit they're not proud of. Sometimes it's necessary, and sometimes it's not... Wash himself has done a lot of both. Has to live with the guilt over the things that weren't, the things that were all just him making bad choices, doing bad things. But 'shit I'm not proud of' is slightly different from just making the wrong call. He needs to know if they're tied together.
"Do you just mean the mistakes? Or something else?" And does he want to talk about it?
"Um, yeah. I'm kinda over running all over after your ass." And the void that came when he wasn't there. The heavy. foreign quiet. The distinct lack of laps. The sheer responsibility that came on Tucker's shoulders and how everything Wash was training him for had just been foreshadowing what would happen: a time when a Freelancer - when he - wasn't there. Tucker didn't want it. He didn't want any of it.
But he was starting to get why Wash was so insistent on it.
Do you even fucking know what it felt like when you said, 'Freckles, shake'? What the fuck went through my stupid head?
"The mistakes. But, like, other ones. How I got the information on where you were." Cunningham. Rogers. Fuck. "And trusting people I shouldn't have."
So that's what "get people killed" was about. Tucker must've made a choice to get the intel at the expense of his men. Wash just nods... nothing he could say would make the consequences of that decision any easier to bear. And on his end, there's a certain amount of guilt. This rescue, as it was, cost lives. So they'll both have to bear it. But the comment about trusting someone he shouldn't have makes Wash lift a hand to stop Tucker from continuing.
"You're not the only one Felix had fooled, Tucker. We all gave him more information than we should have. And obviously he's been playing the New Republic side for years. This is what he does." Part of Wash feels like he should have seen through it, being the paranoid one. He never trusts anyone, but he also didn't see this coming, exactly. Didn't know the plot ran far deeper than he could have suspected.
"We need to figure out how to tell the generals what's really going on. That's how we fix this."
Tucker almost opened his mouth to argue, to say I was kinda around him a lot longer than you were so I don't have an excuse but then Wash pulled out the New Republic card and his mouth snapped shut. Well, he had a point, didn't he? Kimball and Felix had been working with each other a long longer than Tucker had, and if she couldn't see through it--
He shook his head.
"I just...wish I hadn't been so blind. I feel like an idiot." And that was the crux, wasn't it? How bad betrayal could make one feel, how it was obvious and yet he had been so ignorant all the same. Ugh. It was so dumb, especially when he was the perceptive one. "I was so desperate to get you back--"
He trailed off because that sounded too close to admissions he didn't want to make, ones he was still trying to figure out because what the fuck was he supposed to say, huh?
Wash hesitates, but then does lift his hand and place it on Tucker's shoulder. Metal-on-metal isn't much of a comfort, he can't exactly give a reassuring squeeze through their armor, but at least the other soldier can feel the weight of it. His presence. He doesn't know how to take the desperation comment -- maybe Tucker was just that scared of losing anyone else? Don't read too much into it, Wash tells himself, even as he lingers.
"You're not an idiot. He's an excellent actor with a convincing narrative that they've spent years reinforcing. Not even just that, they've actually been living it. 'Proving' it. We judge people by their actions, and for all appearances his were good. It was the situation they were twisting and you had no reason to suspect that. It looked like he'd been a great ally, so you believed he'd help you too -- that's not blind, just hopeful. Hope's something we have to hold on to."
He hasn't been very successful at that, over the years, but he thinks it might be coming back to him. Although he'll always be a paranoid realist, he has faith in this ragtag group of idiots. He believes in them. And knows that sometimes, for people less damaged than him, those feelings are easy to misplace. It doesn't mean Tucker's a bad judge of character. It means he's not broken yet, and Wash... is actually really glad for that.
Tucker wanted to tell him that he didn't need a pep talk, that it sounded like something a Disney princess would say, but wasn't that the whole point of why he was here? Because he needed these words of encouragement, because he needed to know that Wash still believed in him the same way he had before he Freckles, Shaked all over the place?
He didn't shrug off the hand. Fuck, he wanted more of it. More of whatever the hell this was.
"I'm just pissed at myself." And that wasn't untrue; if anything, it was an understatement. "I just...should have been better at, like, everything. Felix and you and shit. I should've been the me that you saw in, um, me, if that makes sense." Seeing through it. Getting him back. Not losing people. All of it.
"War fucking sucks."
Oh, yeah, his plan. His plan that he didn't know if it would work, but damn if he wasn't going to try to throw it out there. "Being around Felix, the one thing I learned about him is that A) he loves to talk, and B) he's an egotistical asshole." Two things, but who was counting? "What if we get him talking, start a fight with him or something, make him spill his guts in the classic evil monologue way, and then get Church to record it and spread it across space. It's classic villain shit! He'd totally fall for it. I can fight him and make him think he's won or something."
That's a strange way to put it, and Wash isn't certain of Tucker's meaning. He shouldn't ask, but he has to. For his own peace of mind.
"What do you mean better at me? Tucker, you -- this entire conversation just proves you are everything I saw in you. A misstep here or there doesn't change that. You learn from it and you only get better." His mouth quirks a little, and Tucker can't see it behind his visor but can probably hear it. "War does fucking suck. Hang in there."
Although he means that, and Wash might wish that his entire life wasn't war because it does suck, he also isn't sure what he'd be without it. He's a soldier. Has never been anything else, doesn't know how to be. For now he moves past that, hoping there's something better for at least his friends down the line. And Tucker's idea is actually decent.
"You know him best, if you think you can bait him into spilling that could work. But..." It's not that he doesn't trust Tucker to get the information. It's that he wouldn't just be talking. Wash shifts uncomfortably, finally reeling his hand back in because to be touching Tucker as he says this feels like too much. "I don't want you to fight Felix."
Wash? Wash was the first person to ever believe in Tucker (aside from his mother, but let's not go there). For years, everyone just brushed him off as laughable, as lazy, as the local pervert, and to be fair, he was every single one of those things. He doubled down when Wash came at him after they landed, fought him every single step of the way. He did all that he could to keep up his status quo.
Wash didn't have it. He didn't listen, fought him, pushed him, fucking trusted him enough all the time, all through it, risked his life so Tucker could live. He saw all the things that Tucker turned away from. He was more of a leader than Church had ever been.
Tucker flushed as the realization sunk in, as the words hit home, as he knew that bastard was smiling under the helmet.
Holy shit. The way his heart skipp--
Wait, whoa, never mind. "What do you mean, you don't want me fighting Felix?" And there went that trust, right out the window. "You don't think I can handle him? Because let me tell you, that little fucker can't take me. Have you seen my sword?"
"That's not what I mean, don't get offended. You're great but he just nearly took out Carolina. I'm not sure I'd be a match for him myself, I don't like the odds of getting him alone, and thinking a better weapon will give you an edge is always a mistake."
It's just... this plan scares him, he acknowledges distantly. After all they've gone through he doesn't want Tucker to be the one to take that risk. But maybe he's the only one who could. The only one who could pull off the ruse and keep him busy physically at once. And maybe he needs this, after being fooled by Felix? Wash just doesn't like it. Doesn't know how he'd live with himself if he goes along with this and Tucker gets hurt. He sighs.
"I'll back your play, I just don't want you to risk it. We can't--" No, that's true but not really the issue. "I can't lose you. At least take my healing unit."
He couldn't. Wash. Wash couldn't. Tucker breathed softly in his helmet - was it hot in here or just him? - and he wished that hand was back on his shoulder. He wished he could see Wash's stupid face, which he hadn't since he had gotten back. He wished he knew what he meant by that.
The paranoid Freelancer was trusting him again, giving him his healing unit, although Tucker wasn't sure he wanted it. "Dude, you should have it. If you guys get cornered by Locus, that's the one I'd be more worried about." That guy was cold as hell, but surely Wash knew that already by how much time he spent over there. He had to, right?
Oh, shit, what if they had se-- No way.
"I won't be alone, though; I'll have Epsilon with me." There was a beat of silence. "And you'll be watching my six. I know you will." Even if he wasn't right there, he would be. He always was.
"If we're cornered by Locus we'll be together. And if he gets me alone... honestly, I doubt it'd help. He goes for the kill shot every time, so either I win or I'm dead. But Felix likes to play, you'd make better use of it. Like you said, you'll have Epsilon, he can run it."
It's just practical, logical, until Tucker says... that. And throws Wash off again. Of course he'll be watching. Of course he'll try to protect Tucker, but what if he can't? Tucker trusts him to but he doesn't trust himself. He's failed too many people already.
Felix was like a cat; he knew that. They all knew that by this point, so he finally sighed and nodded. "You win, Wash. I'll take it. Just promise me and you won't be alone."
But depending on who was with him, that could even be worse. Carolina? Good. Caboose? Bad. He made a face, but finally reached up to take off his helmet. If Wash complained about it, he'd just tune it out; he was really good at that.
He wondered if Wash would follow suit.
"But if something happens to you and you need it, I'm so going to 'I told you so' every second for the rest of your life." And there were those deep brown eyes as he said it, looking over at him. He would do it. It was a promise.
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for vee;
By the time the pelican carrying Wash and Carolina got to the Staff of Charon, the fighting was over. The battle had been won. They picked their way through the corpses strewn throughout the ship to find the Reds and Blues cheering, battered and bloody but celebrating their victory. All but one, that is. Tucker was wearing Maine's armor -- Wash did a double take, but supposed he shouldn't be surprised that Charon somehow had it. The past always seemed to come back to haunt them except in this case it had been a good thing. It had saved them. Except Tucker wasn't cheering.
Turns out, as fast as they could wasn't fast enough.
Maybe if he and Carolina had been up there, they could have saved Epsilon. That was all Wash could think about on the ride back down to Chorus, watching Tucker with his head in his hands. The defeated hunch of Carolina's shoulders. It was all he thought about as they weaved their way through the joyful armies to get back to their barracks. He hesitated as everyone split off but ultimately went to follow Tucker, opened the door to his room to see him throw Maine's helmet against the wall and crumple to his bunk.
Wash stood in the doorway for a long moment before stepping inside and closing the door behind him, crossing to pick up the helmet and look at it. He'd never expected to see it again, and like this... he was having a lot of feelings, none of them ones he wanted to entertain at the moment.
"I'm surprised it fit you," he finally comments, setting the helmet down on Tucker's dresser reverently. "Maine was a big guy."
for meeeee
It was bitter; he couldn't help it, a joke that didn't have the passion most of his witty comebacks did, the most lost in a growling mourning. The suit was heavy, heavier than he was used to; his speed was hindered now that it was quiet, so fucking silent in his head, in the helmet, in the confines of metal and mesh. He hated it. Even aqua, he hated it.
This wasn't his, and he didn't want. This thing? This fucking thing? It was Church's coffin.
There was a flicker of the dark eyes up to Wash, looking at him as if he expected a lecture when Tucker wasn't in the mood for it. Probably shouldn't have been far off from the truth, but the Sim Trooper didn't let it stop him from starting to strip it all off, starting with the gauntlets, right and then left. The sound they made when they hit the ground was loud, cutting through the sounds outside.
"Why aren't you out partying with the rest of them? I mean, I figured even Freelancers were allowed to drink at least once in their life as long as they did triple laps the next day."
Re: for meeeee
He watches Tucker strip the armor off for a moment before crossing to the bunk and sitting beside him heavily, pulling off his own helmet and letting it hang from his fingertips.
Why is he here?
"Because I didn't want to leave you alone right now," he answers honestly. There's nothing he can do. He can't fix it. Doesn't even think he'd be any good at offering comfort, and certainly isn't the right person to commiserate. But Tucker shouldn't be alone.
Re: for meeeee
It was so fucking quiet and empty.
Wash, thankfully, filled up some of that space, refusing to leave him to the heavy silence and the memories. To the way Tucker didn’t say he was sorry. To the moments when he resented Church not remembering things that he had done with Alpha. To the fear when Epsilon left with Carolina and he thought… he thought he had lost those assholes again because abandoning him was what Churches did best.
Fuck, it hurt.
Tucker sat down beside him, heavy and tired and looking at where his hands rested between his knees. “Tell me about how shit went down for you.” Anything had to be better than the narrative in his own head.
also for vee;
He's caught off guard when Tucker actually wants to talk about what's wrong. And the fact is, he did screw up the mission. Wash listens to his friend's rising distress. How he cites Wash telling him to try to be better, which apparently stuck. "--I mean, how are you supposed to know if you're making the right call?"
"Well... you don't. There's never really a right or wrong answer. You just have to stick with what you think is best."
"But what if what I think is best totally sucks?"
"Then you learn from it and you try again."
"Oh my god, it's like you people are on a fucking loop."
Wash shifts his weight, still not certain he's the right one to be talking Tucker through this shit. Maybe none of them are -- or maybe knowing just how badly he's fucked up makes him perfect for it. He was awful, and they've more or less accepted him anyway, because he's trying. "Tucker, I know you're frustrated. But you have to realize that making mistakes is just part of the deal. Even with everything you've screwed up, look at how far you've made it. You're not the same person you were back in Blood Gulch."
"Is it bad that I kinda wish I was?"
"Yes. You were a terrible excuse for a human being." It's a bad joke, and honestly he barely even knew the person he's talking about -- but the mood is so heavy he has to make any attempt to lighten it.
"Hey!"
"I'm kidding!"
"Fuck you, dude! I'm over here spilling my guts and shit and you're cracking jokes? That's messed up."
Yeah, maybe he misstepped. Tucker doesn't really sound upset, though, not any more than he was before. Not about this in particular. So he stands by his joke, throwing a comment back that Tucker's accused him of many times before. "Now who's melodramatic?"
"Man, I shoulda just left your ass with the Feds."
"...I'm glad you didn't." Wash admits it quietly, glad that his helmet is hiding his expression at the moment. "You guys probably shouldn't have risked a rescue mission, especially knowing how well equipped the Federal Army is. But you came for us, and I know you were the leader, Tucker. So thank you."
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Tucker breathed. Or maybe he thought he did because what the fuck, Wash? What was he supposed to say to that?
"Dude, you're family. Of course we're going to come."
It wasn't just family, though. Oh, to the others, sure; they all wigged the fuck out while Wash and significant portions of Red Team were missing, all of them just as determined as Tucker to get those puzzle pieces back, without hesitation. But they didn't stay up at night, wondering what the hell kind of torture he was being subjected to. They weren't running over all the words he had said before he was gone, or the way he fucking looked across the warzone when he told the robot to shake. They didn't get people killed just to return Wash to them.
He didn't fully get what it all was until later, until he was standing there with everyone else, looking at that familiar gray and yellow helmet with the surprise and gratitude and just relief when he saw him alive. Rescue mission, but who was saving who?
Didn't matter. Wash was alive. Wash had been alive.
And between the moment when they met up again and now, that was when all the other bullshit started to filter in: bad decisions, choices to put his trust in the wrong people, plans that fell apart. How Wash would look at him, knowing how bad Tucker fucked up. How much--
Fuck, he cared what Wash thought. He cared...about more than that. The relief never stopped being there. The way he could suddenly breathe again. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It meant something. Something. A Thing. Tucker didn't do Things.
"I mean, you were coming for us, too, right? You know you couldn't stand staying away from us."
He smirked, that cocky little shitty smirk he did. It was good at hiding the rest.
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"We were. You just beat us to it."
And there's something to that. He hadn't been alone this time, hadn't been tortured or even really been much of a prisoner, so it was different. But circumstances aside, he can't really articulate how important it was that someone came for him. That it was Tucker leading the charge just adds more feeling to it, and Wash knows he should just push it down and get on with the situation at hand, but. Tucker can't understand. He doesn't know that Wash has been left behind before. And that last time, when he actually needed the rescue, no one came. He hadn't mattered enough to anyone.
It changes so much inside him to know that now, he does. And he can't even explain it. Because it's upsetting, and it involves Epsilon and Carolina, who Tucker's made peace with at the moment but still isn't really happy with. Wash isn't going to dump this on the other solider. It's his burden. His issue.
"Don't get a big head about it. I just needed to say that." He stands a little straighter, as if he could lift his head above the waves of emotions that he needs to keep in such tight control. "Are you ready to head back? They're probably interrogating the space pirate that came along with us."
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Well, fuck.
"You know we're always going to come, right?" No, he had no clue about the MOI, what happened with Freelancer; some things were always kept close to that trained chest. But Tucker needed to say it as much as he needed to hear it most days, this thing hanging over him where he kept losing everyone: Alpha, Wash, and Epsilon with Carolina fucking off. He hated it, hated it, but Wash going missing--
"I mean, I'm not fucking around. I will do whatever I have to get you back." Wait. That sounded-- "Um, from shit like that."
Right. Smooth.
"I...did some shit I'm not proud of while you were gone."
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"I do now. But I hope this was the last time you ever have to." Something about the way Tucker says he'll do whatever he has to makes Wash worry. About if there ever comes a time it's not worth it to chase after him.
As for the admission, he hesitates. The fact is, it's war. Everyone does shit they're not proud of. Sometimes it's necessary, and sometimes it's not... Wash himself has done a lot of both. Has to live with the guilt over the things that weren't, the things that were all just him making bad choices, doing bad things. But 'shit I'm not proud of' is slightly different from just making the wrong call. He needs to know if they're tied together.
"Do you just mean the mistakes? Or something else?" And does he want to talk about it?
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"Um, yeah. I'm kinda over running all over after your ass." And the void that came when he wasn't there. The heavy. foreign quiet. The distinct lack of laps. The sheer responsibility that came on Tucker's shoulders and how everything Wash was training him for had just been foreshadowing what would happen: a time when a Freelancer - when he - wasn't there. Tucker didn't want it. He didn't want any of it.
But he was starting to get why Wash was so insistent on it.
Do you even fucking know what it felt like when you said, 'Freckles, shake'? What the fuck went through my stupid head?
"The mistakes. But, like, other ones. How I got the information on where you were." Cunningham. Rogers. Fuck. "And trusting people I shouldn't have."
More than trust, but we don't talk about that.
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"You're not the only one Felix had fooled, Tucker. We all gave him more information than we should have. And obviously he's been playing the New Republic side for years. This is what he does." Part of Wash feels like he should have seen through it, being the paranoid one. He never trusts anyone, but he also didn't see this coming, exactly. Didn't know the plot ran far deeper than he could have suspected.
"We need to figure out how to tell the generals what's really going on. That's how we fix this."
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He shook his head.
"I just...wish I hadn't been so blind. I feel like an idiot." And that was the crux, wasn't it? How bad betrayal could make one feel, how it was obvious and yet he had been so ignorant all the same. Ugh. It was so dumb, especially when he was the perceptive one. "I was so desperate to get you back--"
He trailed off because that sounded too close to admissions he didn't want to make, ones he was still trying to figure out because what the fuck was he supposed to say, huh?
"I might have a plan...?" Famous last words.
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"You're not an idiot. He's an excellent actor with a convincing narrative that they've spent years reinforcing. Not even just that, they've actually been living it. 'Proving' it. We judge people by their actions, and for all appearances his were good. It was the situation they were twisting and you had no reason to suspect that. It looked like he'd been a great ally, so you believed he'd help you too -- that's not blind, just hopeful. Hope's something we have to hold on to."
He hasn't been very successful at that, over the years, but he thinks it might be coming back to him. Although he'll always be a paranoid realist, he has faith in this ragtag group of idiots. He believes in them. And knows that sometimes, for people less damaged than him, those feelings are easy to misplace. It doesn't mean Tucker's a bad judge of character. It means he's not broken yet, and Wash... is actually really glad for that.
"A plan?"
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He didn't shrug off the hand. Fuck, he wanted more of it. More of whatever the hell this was.
"I'm just pissed at myself." And that wasn't untrue; if anything, it was an understatement. "I just...should have been better at, like, everything. Felix and you and shit. I should've been the me that you saw in, um, me, if that makes sense." Seeing through it. Getting him back. Not losing people. All of it.
"War fucking sucks."
Oh, yeah, his plan. His plan that he didn't know if it would work, but damn if he wasn't going to try to throw it out there. "Being around Felix, the one thing I learned about him is that A) he loves to talk, and B) he's an egotistical asshole." Two things, but who was counting? "What if we get him talking, start a fight with him or something, make him spill his guts in the classic evil monologue way, and then get Church to record it and spread it across space. It's classic villain shit! He'd totally fall for it. I can fight him and make him think he's won or something."
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"What do you mean better at me? Tucker, you -- this entire conversation just proves you are everything I saw in you. A misstep here or there doesn't change that. You learn from it and you only get better." His mouth quirks a little, and Tucker can't see it behind his visor but can probably hear it. "War does fucking suck. Hang in there."
Although he means that, and Wash might wish that his entire life wasn't war because it does suck, he also isn't sure what he'd be without it. He's a soldier. Has never been anything else, doesn't know how to be. For now he moves past that, hoping there's something better for at least his friends down the line. And Tucker's idea is actually decent.
"You know him best, if you think you can bait him into spilling that could work. But..." It's not that he doesn't trust Tucker to get the information. It's that he wouldn't just be talking. Wash shifts uncomfortably, finally reeling his hand back in because to be touching Tucker as he says this feels like too much. "I don't want you to fight Felix."
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Wash didn't have it. He didn't listen, fought him, pushed him, fucking trusted him enough all the time, all through it, risked his life so Tucker could live. He saw all the things that Tucker turned away from. He was more of a leader than Church had ever been.
Tucker flushed as the realization sunk in, as the words hit home, as he knew that bastard was smiling under the helmet.
Holy shit. The way his heart skipp--
Wait, whoa, never mind. "What do you mean, you don't want me fighting Felix?" And there went that trust, right out the window. "You don't think I can handle him? Because let me tell you, that little fucker can't take me. Have you seen my sword?"
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It's just... this plan scares him, he acknowledges distantly. After all they've gone through he doesn't want Tucker to be the one to take that risk. But maybe he's the only one who could. The only one who could pull off the ruse and keep him busy physically at once. And maybe he needs this, after being fooled by Felix? Wash just doesn't like it. Doesn't know how he'd live with himself if he goes along with this and Tucker gets hurt. He sighs.
"I'll back your play, I just don't want you to risk it. We can't--" No, that's true but not really the issue. "I can't lose you. At least take my healing unit."
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He couldn't. Wash. Wash couldn't. Tucker breathed softly in his helmet - was it hot in here or just him? - and he wished that hand was back on his shoulder. He wished he could see Wash's stupid face, which he hadn't since he had gotten back. He wished he knew what he meant by that.
The paranoid Freelancer was trusting him again, giving him his healing unit, although Tucker wasn't sure he wanted it. "Dude, you should have it. If you guys get cornered by Locus, that's the one I'd be more worried about." That guy was cold as hell, but surely Wash knew that already by how much time he spent over there. He had to, right?
Oh, shit, what if they had se-- No way.
"I won't be alone, though; I'll have Epsilon with me." There was a beat of silence. "And you'll be watching my six. I know you will." Even if he wasn't right there, he would be. He always was.
"I'll be fine now that you're back."
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It's just practical, logical, until Tucker says... that. And throws Wash off again. Of course he'll be watching. Of course he'll try to protect Tucker, but what if he can't? Tucker trusts him to but he doesn't trust himself. He's failed too many people already.
"Please just take it."
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But depending on who was with him, that could even be worse. Carolina? Good. Caboose? Bad. He made a face, but finally reached up to take off his helmet. If Wash complained about it, he'd just tune it out; he was really good at that.
He wondered if Wash would follow suit.
"But if something happens to you and you need it, I'm so going to 'I told you so' every second for the rest of your life." And there were those deep brown eyes as he said it, looking over at him. He would do it. It was a promise.
"I'm glad you're back, just so you know."