[ 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?
[So Wash definitely can tell he can hear again. His hand clenches against the back of Wash's neck, keeps his eyes closed. Because there's so much he didn't get to tell him over the years.]
To stop being a fucking baby and tell me how he felt. [He inhales sharply, a hiss through his teeth because - that's really the important thing. Tucker would never openly admit he loved the guy (because he was a program, he always was, Tucker knew and didn't risk saying it out loud), but Church was still... Church.] That I knew, the whole time what he was. It didn't-- [And his voice goes tired. Loses the sharp edge and softens into exhaustion.] It didn't matter to me.
[ wash keeps his hand curled over the back of tucker's implant site, watching tucker from under his own lashes. he gets so upset, sometimes, at how many lives the director ruined besides just his own - besides just carolina's. so many people dead, or hurt, for his obsession.
he hears everything tucker doesn't say, but more importantly, that tucker is saying these things. he can't say that alpha trusted tucker; he didn't know him long enough. and he knows alpha resisted being an ai until the end.
he can't say anything and so he doesn't - just keeps his hands on tucker and hopefully a sign of his support. ]
[Wash doesn't say anything and for once, Tucker's glad he doesn't have to hear whatever Important Wisdom he might have to offer. He moves to rest his forehead against Wash's shoulder - easier, more comfortable. His breath feels like it's half-stopped gasps when he thinks harder about what he would've wanted to tell Church.]
I just-- He-he was an idiot, Wash. Never knew the right thing to say, he was an asshole, and he hated us, I just... [he trails off, tries to get his breath and slumps against him. He's got to get a lid on this or he'll never shut up. He'll never live it down if the reds find out he was crying over Church.] Jackass. [But there's no malice or bite to it. Just hurt and weariness, a little wet around the edges.]
[ wash lets tucker move in against his shoulder, shifts his hand to cup the top of his spine. he listens to tucker, though, how hard it is for him to say all that he does.
he knows it doesn't come easy to him. ]
Yeah. [ its not much but it is what he can say, he’s listening, tucker. he’s here, which is more than he can say for epsilon or alpha.
guilt, too, in his stomach. he told alpha the risks about the emp, but wash still pulled it. ]
[He's quiet a few seconds more, letting the emotions drain out and onto Wash's shirt. Get it all out now so he doesn't have to think or talk about or deal with later.
And that really is what it comes down to: Wash is the one that's here. Not Church. Both the Churches made their choices, and now they all have to live with it.]
[He wouldn't have because Tucker wouldn't have let half that shit happen. He wouldn't have let Wash's Revelation get to Church as bad as it did, wouldn't have let him think about going into the Meta alone.
Tucker lets a little more of his weight shift onto Wash before he straightens, pulls away but keeps his head low, eyes down.]
[ wash lets tucker draw away, letting his hand fall to rest on tucker's shoulder for a moment before he lets go. they're still close, and he doesn't draw away from that.
he's still not sure what to say, but he has to try, right? ]
[Another minute to breathe. To let those emotions finally sink down before Tucker takes a slow inhale, then takes half a step away. Looks out over the railing again.]
Y'should probably go back to sleep.
[An admission: he won't be going back to sleep for a while.]
[ well - no, wash is up. as tucker said, he's got him spoiled, and it's not easy to admit but he sleeps easier with tucker nearby. he shrugs a little. ]
I might go read on the couch.
[ offering to give tucker space without actually offering. ]
[He thought for sure Wash had read everything they'd managed to bring up, but. Who knows, maybe he found a way to download more stuff with the shitty signal they have up here. Or maybe Kimball takes pity on him and sends new stuff.
Tucker takes another look out at the landscape beyond their buildings, the grass blowing with the breeze and the waters beyond it.
Then turns and comes back inside, his hand trailing down Wash's arm to linger on his hand.] Might join you.
Tucker lets out the breath he was holding and leans over to kiss the top of Wash's head, lingering for just a second, then moves around to take stock of this situation.
Yeah there... Really isn't a lot of room, but he'll make do with Wash. Shoves his arms up out of his way and climbs up on him, settling himself sort of half between Wash and the back of the couch, head where he's in the perfect spot to lay it on his shoulder. If he wanted to.
[ wash raises his arms up for tucker to settle himself down where he wants to, putting him half on wash and half against the couch. after tucker settles, wash rests his arms back down again, one curling around tucker's shoulders easily.
the question posed at wash gives him a moment's pause. books, scars? he assumes the deeper of the two, honestly. ]
From things getting thrown at my face, generally. [ he peers down at tucker. ] Locus did hit me in the face with a shotgun.
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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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To stop being a fucking baby and tell me how he felt. [He inhales sharply, a hiss through his teeth because - that's really the important thing. Tucker would never openly admit he loved the guy (because he was a program, he always was, Tucker knew and didn't risk saying it out loud), but Church was still... Church.] That I knew, the whole time what he was. It didn't-- [And his voice goes tired. Loses the sharp edge and softens into exhaustion.] It didn't matter to me.
...I just wanted him to trust me.
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he hears everything tucker doesn't say, but more importantly, that tucker is saying these things. he can't say that alpha trusted tucker; he didn't know him long enough. and he knows alpha resisted being an ai until the end.
he can't say anything and so he doesn't - just keeps his hands on tucker and hopefully a sign of his support. ]
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I just-- He-he was an idiot, Wash. Never knew the right thing to say, he was an asshole, and he hated us, I just... [he trails off, tries to get his breath and slumps against him. He's got to get a lid on this or he'll never shut up. He'll never live it down if the reds find out he was crying over Church.] Jackass. [But there's no malice or bite to it. Just hurt and weariness, a little wet around the edges.]
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he knows it doesn't come easy to him. ]
Yeah. [ its not much but it is what he can say, he’s listening, tucker. he’s here, which is more than he can say for epsilon or alpha.
guilt, too, in his stomach. he told alpha the risks about the emp, but wash still pulled it. ]
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And that really is what it comes down to: Wash is the one that's here. Not Church. Both the Churches made their choices, and now they all have to live with it.]
Would've carried him if he'd've let me.
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he doesn't think he means physically. ]
I know, Tucker.
[ he has the feeling if tucker had been around, he wouldn’t have ended up in prison. ]
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Tucker lets a little more of his weight shift onto Wash before he straightens, pulls away but keeps his head low, eyes down.]
Both gone. It's fuckin' bullshit.
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he's still not sure what to say, but he has to try, right? ]
It is.
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Y'should probably go back to sleep.
[An admission: he won't be going back to sleep for a while.]
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I might go read on the couch.
[ offering to give tucker space without actually offering. ]
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[He thought for sure Wash had read everything they'd managed to bring up, but. Who knows, maybe he found a way to download more stuff with the shitty signal they have up here. Or maybe Kimball takes pity on him and sends new stuff.
Tucker takes another look out at the landscape beyond their buildings, the grass blowing with the breeze and the waters beyond it.
Then turns and comes back inside, his hand trailing down Wash's arm to linger on his hand.] Might join you.
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when tucker trails his hand down to linger on his hand, though, wash looks up with a tired smile. ]
Plenty of room on the couch.
[ he... doesn't move to make said room, since that room is on him, clearly. ]
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Tucker lets out the breath he was holding and leans over to kiss the top of Wash's head, lingering for just a second, then moves around to take stock of this situation.
Yeah there... Really isn't a lot of room, but he'll make do with Wash. Shoves his arms up out of his way and climbs up on him, settling himself sort of half between Wash and the back of the couch, head where he's in the perfect spot to lay it on his shoulder. If he wanted to.
Which right now, he's interested in Wash's face.]
Where do you keep getting all these anyway?
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the question posed at wash gives him a moment's pause. books, scars? he assumes the deeper of the two, honestly. ]
From things getting thrown at my face, generally. [ he peers down at tucker. ] Locus did hit me in the face with a shotgun.
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