thisavrou | (no subject)

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[Wash appears on the screen, grudgingly out of armour, his face drawn and pinched around the mouth. He looks exhausted, eyes sunken and dark with exhaustion. Arriving here is just one more thing that seems specifically designed to fuck up his life.]

My name is Ag- [No, he's not Agent Washington anymore is he? He's not with the UNSC. He's not with project Freelancer. He's not anything.] My name is Washington.

They said that- [He can't believe he's saying this. His life is a fucking joke and his death will probably be the punchline. Until then, he is stuck dealing with this shit. Assuming he hasn't snapped altogether. That's also a possibility.]

They said that I have been sucked in through some kind of bullshit dimension hopping. [Yes, his teeth are gritted as he says it.] I'm looking for anyone who knows what the UNSC is.

[It's not that he wants to find anyone from home. There's no-one he cares for left alive and even then... well, he tries not to think about them too much. But he just needs someone to remind him that that wasn't all fictional.]

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Yeah. Just me.

[ He draws his hand back a little, gives Wash a moment to focus on him. ]

Remember where you are?

[It takes a few moments. He frowns, trying to focus.]

No.

It's Thisavrou. You just got here, you're on my couch. You're safe.

[ Because maybe if he says it enough, Wash will start to believe it. ]

[Thisavrou. It's not really settled into his brain yet. Despite himself, he reaches out to touch York's face, trying to convince himself that he isn't a ghost or a hallucination.]

You're real?

...I'm real.

[ This is going to be one of those things he never forgives himself for, York thinks. Not coming back for Wash. He holds still, lets his friend touch his face, warm skin and the beginnings of beard scruff, the scar cutting through his cheek. And breathes slow. ]

See?

[He feels skin, warm and solid, and the slightly different texture of York's scar. No-one ever felt this solid when he was hallucinating.]

Oh.

I uh- [Now that he's mostly awake, he feels a crawling mortification slinking through him.]

Sorry. Did I wake you?

Nah. I've got my own.

[ It's an easy enough thing to say -- a white lie to spare them both some awkwardness. ]

You want me to stay out here with you for awhile?

[His gaze flicks up to meet York's eyes for a moment, and then back down. He'd never thought of York having nightmares.]

No I- You don't need to do that. I'll be fine.

...scoot over. I could use the company.

[ He doesn't want to leave Wash like this even if he'd only be going to the next room. If this wasn't the same man who'd refused a hug that afternoon, York would offer to hold him for awhile, see if he could get back to sleep. ]

[He looks confused for a moment before he nods and slides over to the other side of the sofa, dragging a hand through his sweaty hair.]

Shit.

[ It might just be a pull out but it's big enough for both of them, if they aren't scared of brushing against one another. York lies down beside Wash, staring up at the ceiling to take some of the pressure off talking. ]

Mine are different, obviously, but I get it.

[Wash glances over at him.]

I wish mine were just mine.

Epsilon.

[ More specifically, Alpha's memories. Pain and torture. York closes his eyes, reminded again of his failure. ]

I'm sorry, Wash. We didn't know.

Yeah. He- he ditched a whole load of stuff into my head when he killed himself. I don't always remember who I am.

[ That sounds. York can't even imagine it, losing track of who you are like that. Having someone else's memories in your head. He rolls his head to the side to look at Wash. ]

Mostly at night, or all the time?

[If it was any other time, he wouldn't have said this, but he's still drowsy and not entirely convinced that this is real.]

When I wake up sometimes it can take a few moments. Sometimes I space out and forget. Sometimes I just remember stuff.

Is there anything I can do? Besides be here and real, talking to you?

I don't know. This is a first for me.

[No-one had really cared before. If they'd noticed, they'd tried to drug him or question him, neither of which had been pleasant.]

Guess I'll just do that, then. [ He bends up the arm closest to Wash, offering his hand to hold. ] Is it helping?

Edited 2017-07-23 00:30 (UTC)

[He stars at York's hand suspiciously for a moment, and he should bat it away. he's fine, he'll be fine, except he's still half expecting the room to melt away, like if he opens the door he'll be back in prison, or in the Freelancer medical centre waiting for them to come and stick needles into him again.

He takes the offered hand, curls his fingers so he can feel York's pulse.]

I guess.

I'll stay until you kick me out. And if you want to talk about it... again, I can't relate but I'll listen.

[ He grips Wash's hand reassuringly, thumb stroking against the side of Wash's. He's here, he's real, he's not going anywhere. ]

They'd sedate me if I seemed like I was getting too agitated. And if they did, the nightmares got worse. And I couldn't wake up.

That's not going to happen here. Not as long as I'm around.

[ His guilt is getting worse but so is his determination to protect Wash from anything like that ever again. ]

You can't protect me from the shit they put in my head.

No, I can't go back in time. But I can protect you from things like the way they treated you.

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