[It's just the two of them. It's god knows what hour in the morning and no one else is awake. It should be fine. Tucker breathes in slow and leans his weight against Wash. Only because Wash is taller. That's all.
But how quiet and almost trembling his voice is probably gives him away.] Then let's do it.
[ wash notices a lot about tucker. how quiet he is in general, but also specifically now. his palm presses in tight against the small of tucker's back, and he leans his head down a little to rest on top of tucker's. ]
Okay.
[ his voice is quiet. there's not much to say, aside from knowing he'll have to tune tucker's key card to open his door as well. this is just as much tucker's space as his own. ]
[ wash can see that tucker is trying to focus, trying to listen. it's a heavy question he asks, though. how did wash handle the aftermath?
he takes a breath, lets it out slowly. ]
At first, I didn't handle them well. Just tried not to think about it. Not something I recommend doing, by the way.
[ so wry. ]
I tried... talking to the other Freelancers, but no one ever really wanted to talk about it. Even North didn't seem to get it. So ... I would run. I'd run on the treadmills until I couldn't think anymore and then I'd try to sleep.
[ there's quiet after that, though. wash isn't sure he ever really found something that worked for him. ]
[He's pretty sure he gets what Wash is putting down. And any other time, he'd joke about it. But now just... doesn't feel like the time. And it wasn't until Chorus that Tucker started noticing those social cues. He really has changed.
He takes in a deep breath, cross his arms over the railing and lowers his head so it's level with his shoulders.]
I don't... Really do the talking thing much either.
[There it goes, the deafening silence at the end of Wash's "much--". He thinks he's gotten a little better at not making it obvious when it happens, but even he can't do anything about the way his shoulders tense, just a hair, so he can look at Wash's mouth out the corner of his eye. Just to make sure he isn't still talking.
How much what?
Fuck. Maybe if he just. Stays quiet. Or maybe this is the way to do it. When he can't hear any response.]
...Be easier if I didn't still dream it. Just... All the noise and-- Then the nothing. [he's trying at least.]
[ too bad, you're caught dead in it, tucker. wash feels the tense shoulders through his hand, and he catches tucker peeking out of the corner of his eye.
before he can call him on it, though, he speaks. dreams, the noise and then the nothing.
wash looks up a little, but keeps his mouth visible. he talks slowly, enunciating his words carefully. ]
I still have dreams about her. They just... come less frequently.
[ wash flinches a little, so minute that if tucker isn’t looking, he might miss it entirely. then he lets out a sigh, turning to face tucker so that the other can hopefully read his lips. ]
Most of the Freelancers had AI, and I was supposed to be no different. Mine was Epsilon - Church. When they gave him to me, though, he broke down. They took him away, but not before I was left with a bunch of jumbled memories - Epsilon’s, and the man’s he was based on. The Director.
[ wash pauses, mostly to make sure tucker is following. ]
[Normally he would be, this would be a missing puzzle piece to all the shit he got caught up in.
But he only catches three words: Church, Epsilon, and Director. But not much else. Fuck, he was going he wouldn't have to show his cards. Tucker sighs and shakes his head.]
Didn't catch it. Either way, I just dream about it and... I dunno, it keeps me up.
[If he could figure out what the hell is wrong with him, they could fix this. as it is, he sighs in frustration himself, watches Wash go back inside and come back with... OH hell no. This is what he's reduced to.
Tucker bashes a face at the tablet but... whatever wash is trying to say must be important.]
[ make faces all you want, tucker, but until they figure out what is up, this is what he can use.
wash only nods and his fingers begin to fly over the screen. it only takes a few minutes to type what he needs to; once he’s done, he hands the tablet to tucker to read the text on the screen. ]
I was supposed to have an AI like the other freelancers. I was given Epsilon. When he was implanted in me, though, that finally broke him. They pulled him, but he’d already left me something - his memories of the Alpha’s torture, along with the memories of the man he was based on, the Director.
The Director lost someone close to him. The entire project he was trying to remake her.
[ that, obviously, was texas. ]
I still have nightmares about it. About Church’s torture, and about losing her. Not just them, but losing the other freelancers too.
So, you can always tell me about this. I get it. And I’m sorry.
[ wash shifts a little as tucker reads, almost anxious. ]
[He takes the tablet and. Boy that is a lot of information, but it's the last few missing pieces of a fucked up puzzle he'd mostly put together on his own. Some stuff fit, other stuff made more sense now.
The quiet is probably agonizing for Wash who just poured out more information about himself than Tucker had managed to pick up over the last few years, but Tucker needs to sort it out in his head. What that means for him, for Church (both Churches, the one he knew before and laughed with and probably-definitely-loved and the one that just died in his head), for Wash, for everyone they knew.
He finally takes a slow breath, keeps his eyes on the tablet.]
[ the quiet is agonizing, glass inside his brain, but wash forces the thoughts aside and waits for tucker to process everything he just gave him. only carolina knows this much; only carolina had been privy to everything that her father had messed up. and wash made sure that bit of info was hers to declare.
wash knows that tucker could read his lips and he could explain. instead, he steps forward, leaning his forehead down against tucker's, and then slowly reaches up behind him, fingers touching the edge of the ai port slot.
he means for this - this thing they share in common. he's sorry that tucker had to go through it. ]
[When Wash moves in, Tucker instinctively wants to move back. Did Wash say anything? Did he make a noise, what's happening- and then their foreheads are together and. This is intimate. It's intimate in the way Wash's breath ghosts over his face, his fingertips against the back of Tucker's neck and implant site.
This. That's what he understands. They both had the same thing happen with the same AI. Not that Tucker's was as dramatic as Wash's experience, but. Still bad.
He closes his eyes, focuses on feeling Wash's breath and the sound it makes when they reach his ears.]
... Doesn't bring him back. [He sounds a little miserable. Like he's thinking to every time Church left.]
[ wash just leans his forehead against tucker's and closes his eyes, sharing space and breath. this is more intimate than almost anything else they've ever done recently. tucker trusting him to get this close.
after tucker speaks, wash reaches down, taking tucker's hand. gently, he guides it up so that tucker's palm covers wash's own ai slot, and then lets his hand go.
wash moves his own hand after that, hesitating and then resting it over tucker's chest, his thumb and pinky brushing the scars under either pec. ]
[Tucker lets Wash lead him, guide his hand to Wash's fucking broken implant. He knows this is important; Wash's AI slot has always been a point of... nondiscussion. No one brings it up, no one talks about it.
His face scrunches, brows knot together as he tries to keep the composure. It shouldn't fucking matter that he's gone again, because he's always gone.]
Just--fucking once wish he'd let me say bye to his face.
[ wash's other hand, resting on the back of tucker's neck, gives a gentle squeeze. yeah, tucker. it seems the church family is really bad about letting people have closure by saying goodbye. you're not the only one, buddy. ]
Maybe it'd help to say goodbye anyways. What would you have told him?
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wash gives a gentle sigh. ]
I didn't have that much on the ship, either. I was in prison before I was part of Blue Team, remember?
[ and that... tidbit brought back up, wash moves on. ]
I want to.
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But how quiet and almost trembling his voice is probably gives him away.] Then let's do it.
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Okay.
[ his voice is quiet. there's not much to say, aside from knowing he'll have to tune tucker's key card to open his door as well. this is just as much tucker's space as his own. ]
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...Back in Freelancer, you were in a lot of fights. Right?
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[ wash wonders where tucker is going with this - doesn't ask, waiting. ]
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... How'd you handle the aftermath?
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he takes a breath, lets it out slowly. ]
At first, I didn't handle them well. Just tried not to think about it. Not something I recommend doing, by the way.
[ so wry. ]
I tried... talking to the other Freelancers, but no one ever really wanted to talk about it. Even North didn't seem to get it. So ... I would run. I'd run on the treadmills until I couldn't think anymore and then I'd try to sleep.
[ there's quiet after that, though. wash isn't sure he ever really found something that worked for him. ]
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Turns out they had the same answers. Not so different, really.]
Yeah, running's still not really my thing.
[So the other option is to Talk about it.]
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[ ... he isn't advocating sex, by the way, but wash will admit he tried that too. for now he just keeps leaning against tucker. ]
I'm here, okay.
[ for talking, when he finally felt like it, or anything else he needed. ]
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He takes in a deep breath, cross his arms over the railing and lowers his head so it's level with his shoulders.]
I don't... Really do the talking thing much either.
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[ wash lets him fold himself forward, his hand still resting against tucker's spine, watching the curve of his shoulders, the almost defeated slump. ]
Or anytime soon. But I'm here, and I'll listen. Even if it's just to tell me how much it sucks.
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How much what?
Fuck. Maybe if he just. Stays quiet. Or maybe this is the way to do it. When he can't hear any response.]
...Be easier if I didn't still dream it. Just... All the noise and-- Then the nothing. [he's trying at least.]
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before he can call him on it, though, he speaks. dreams, the noise and then the nothing.
wash looks up a little, but keeps his mouth visible. he talks slowly, enunciating his words carefully. ]
I still have dreams about her. They just... come less frequently.
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Unless she's telling you to have a threeway with me, I don't see why you're telling the guy you just started dating that you're dreaming about a girl.
[There's some stuff that happened even Tucker never did get to know about.]
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[ wash flinches a little, so minute that if tucker isn’t looking, he might miss it entirely. then he lets out a sigh, turning to face tucker so that the other can hopefully read his lips. ]
Most of the Freelancers had AI, and I was supposed to be no different. Mine was Epsilon - Church. When they gave him to me, though, he broke down. They took him away, but not before I was left with a bunch of jumbled memories - Epsilon’s, and the man’s he was based on. The Director.
[ wash pauses, mostly to make sure tucker is following. ]
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But he only catches three words: Church, Epsilon, and Director. But not much else. Fuck, he was going he wouldn't have to show his cards. Tucker sighs and shakes his head.]
Didn't catch it. Either way, I just dream about it and... I dunno, it keeps me up.
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[ well, at least tucker is admitting it now. thats something wash gives him credit for, even if there's a mild surge of frustration.
he looks at tucker, listening, and frowning, his hand rubbing before he lets go. he reaches up to tap his own ears.
he does want to share this. maybe it will help. and then he has an idea, and holds up a finger. ]
Sorry, but - hold on.
[ he disappears back into the apartment, returning a moment later with his tablet. ]
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Tucker bashes a face at the tablet but... whatever wash is trying to say must be important.]
...well. we'll try it.
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[ make faces all you want, tucker, but until they figure out what is up, this is what he can use.
wash only nods and his fingers begin to fly over the screen. it only takes a few minutes to type what he needs to; once he’s done, he hands the tablet to tucker to read the text on the screen. ]
I was supposed to have an AI like the other freelancers. I was given Epsilon. When he was implanted in me, though, that finally broke him. They pulled him, but he’d already left me something - his memories of the Alpha’s torture, along with the memories of the man he was based on, the Director.
The Director lost someone close to him. The entire project he was trying to remake her.
[ that, obviously, was texas. ]
I still have nightmares about it. About Church’s torture, and about losing her. Not just them, but losing the other freelancers too.
So, you can always tell me about this. I get it. And I’m sorry.
[ wash shifts a little as tucker reads, almost anxious. ]
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The quiet is probably agonizing for Wash who just poured out more information about himself than Tucker had managed to pick up over the last few years, but Tucker needs to sort it out in his head. What that means for him, for Church (both Churches, the one he knew before and laughed with and probably-definitely-loved and the one that just died in his head), for Wash, for everyone they knew.
He finally takes a slow breath, keeps his eyes on the tablet.]
No idea what you're apologizing for, dude.
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wash knows that tucker could read his lips and he could explain. instead, he steps forward, leaning his forehead down against tucker's, and then slowly reaches up behind him, fingers touching the edge of the ai port slot.
he means for this - this thing they share in common. he's sorry that tucker had to go through it. ]
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This. That's what he understands. They both had the same thing happen with the same AI. Not that Tucker's was as dramatic as Wash's experience, but. Still bad.
He closes his eyes, focuses on feeling Wash's breath and the sound it makes when they reach his ears.]
... Doesn't bring him back. [He sounds a little miserable. Like he's thinking to every time Church left.]
i found a way to UP THE ANTE
after tucker speaks, wash reaches down, taking tucker's hand. gently, he guides it up so that tucker's palm covers wash's own ai slot, and then lets his hand go.
wash moves his own hand after that, hesitating and then resting it over tucker's chest, his thumb and pinky brushing the scars under either pec. ]
this is rude and I'm being bullied
His face scrunches, brows knot together as he tries to keep the composure. It shouldn't fucking matter that he's gone again, because he's always gone.]
Just--fucking once wish he'd let me say bye to his face.
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Maybe it'd help to say goodbye anyways. What would you have told him?
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