goneawaycomms | AGENT WASHINGTON

You know, you're right. I apologize for getting attacked by an absolute maniac.

From now on, I'll be sure travel everywhere with a gun instead of a shiv I made out of a tooth brush, escorted by a full security detail of armed guards.

[There's the dry and sarcastic Wash you know and love, Tucker.]

[A squint.]

Are you giving me a lecture about being attacked while running through the halls alone when she's already capable of demolishing people in pairs?

See? Is that so hard? [ It's nice to get to bounce off of that touchstone Wash dryness. Sad though it is to be in a life situation where he's relieved to have Wash sass him instead of getting to take it for granted.

Tucker's very obvious pause before answering is possibly an answer to that follow-up question in itself. ]

... I think my running speaks for itself.

[His tone of voice is either that of a scolding parent or a big brother who got the phone call that their younger sibling needs someone to bring some bail but it was only property damage, they swear, please don't tell mom and dad.]

Tucker!

[He pauses.]

Do I have to use that tone of voice on you and your - our friends often? Because that felt very natural.

[ Tucker can't completely smother a grin. ]

Yeah, you use it all the time. But only because you're a huge buzz-kill.

[ It's possible to sound matter-of-fact and fond. The younger sibling analogy is kind of right on point, tonally. ]

Anyway, it's fine. What's a hall buddy gonna do? Provide moral support while we're getting demolished as a pair? Fuck that. You're live on the comm. If she shows up on the murder rebound in the next two minutes, you can say "I told you so."

[ Or call for help or whatever. ]

["Buzzkill." That...that causes some memories to stir and he gets a flash of Aqua armor and the two of them standing in the shadow of a crashed spaceship.]

Smartass.

[He says it reflexively in response to the sarcasm, not realizing it's an echo of anything.]

Just...hurry up and get down here.

Copy that. [ It manages to get a grin out of him in full. Remembering or having a vague impression or Wash just being Wash, it's nice to see some of their bullshit transcend amnesia either way.

Should he have the amnesia? Based on what they last heard back home, no. And definitely no overall effects in this vein. One thing at a time. The first 'one thing' on the docket is a lot more related to the almost bleeding to death experience.

Tucker is charging on into the infirmary before long, disconnecting as he crosses the threshold. Picking out who he's looking for and unceremoniously dropping onto a stool or something is quick work from there. ]

Hey, Wash. [ There's a tension threaded through him just for the life situation and stabbing situation and being here in general, but any of it that could be considered excess from that does a decent job of disappearing the second he gets within range. Wash looks even less dying in person.

Tucker front-loads all his usual trappings of being cool and casual. sure he got worked up and literally ran here the second he heard about what happened and he's still worried, but like.

In a chill, devil-may-care way.

Obviously. ]

Man. Better medical digs than I thought they'd bother with for fresh meat.

[Wash looks at him with a strange mix of relief and confusion. There is feeling that shouldn't be there. Fondness. Protectiveness (he really shouldn't have been out there alone).]

[Comfort. Like how it feels to have North around. That one is strange. It's alien enough with North, and a little fraught because of what Wash had done to South.]

[This feels...different. Like there's nothing in the way of open fondness and a feeling of safety except for his inability to remember why he feels that warmth at all.]

[Even with North here, he's not used to connection with others, and especially not connection that feels...uncomplicated. (At least as far as he remembers.) Nothing about his life is uncomplicated. Ever.]

[But somehow he knows this is.]

I...I'm trying to remember things and - and this is all a little confusing.

I'm not going to pretend I'm someone I'm not. Right now, who I am, is...I'm the person that shot your friends.

[His expression goes a little cold at that. Then there's a little chisel, a tiny crack of something more open, something more like Wash from the present.]

But even though I can't remember most of it, I definitely know I know you. I just...don't know what to do with that. How to react.

[He leans his head back against his pillow and though he definitely looks like he's not about to keel over and die, though he looks like he's healing, he also looks very, very tired. More tired than Tucker's ever seen him, and considering how tired he's sometimes looked in the past? That's saying something.]

[ Woof. Talk about some rough living. It's enough to make a guy keep wishing he knew what he was doing. Or very possibly to wish that Wash ever looked the kind of tired that sleeping could fix outright.

Oh, to have Caboose's straightforward dumbass ways of managing on hand. Scratch that. The stress of wondering when or how Caboose would get himself zapped half to death sits in very sharp relief now that Tucker's actually gotten more of the Rig picture. ]

I got this. Rule one: don't shoot Tucker. Rule two: don't bleed to death. After that, I think we can just wing it and do okay.

[He gives him a flat stare and his voice is even flatter. Paper thin.]

We'll wing it.

[God he is so confused.]

What, we're just buds again even though I can't remember it and one of the last things I remember doing is - as I said - shooting your friends?

[Which means, if pressed with his back against the wall, means he'd consider breaking Rule 1 (no, a part of him insists, no you won't, don't you dare)]

What did I do? Dr. Grey said something about helping her world, a planet called Chorus?

Who... who am I to you? And to those people? And how did I - how did I become that?

[That last one is the important part. It feels like there's a vast gulf between who is and who Tucker thinks he is.]

Edited 2020-11-03 17:42 (UTC)

[ Tucker remains fully secure in his inability or refusal to conceptualize Wash breaking Rule 1 for any reason, brain issues or no. Such is the burden of friendship.

He thinks for a few seconds, pulling an undignified face. Last time he was a teller of bedtime stories, he just rehashed Reservoir Dogs. This is one of those issues that's in important and meaningful and emotionally sincere territory, none of which are his areas of expertise. Damn Wash and his lack of wing. His not yet guaranteed understanding that he's stuck with Tucker for basically eternity whether he likes it or not.

(Note to self: look into the Dr. Grey situation ASAP. If she's here, that's good to know when it's time to circle the wagons. Maybe get the low-down on the brain damage thing.)

Makes him miss having a helmet on. A person feels way more secure about their plan of attack forming in a helmet. Part of Tucker's brain immediately starts floundering around in panicked pursuit of the shitty but reliable social lifeboats that aren't there right now. ]

Shit. Okay. That's a metric fuckton of ground to cover, so which part do you wanna start at?

What happened after that fight with Tex? How did we stop being enemies? I know we fought the Meta together, but -

[How did the band get together?]

Then what? What did I do to make you decide to let me join you?

[He still assumes the loyalty was hard won, even after they defeated the Meta together.]

Edited 2020-11-04 07:03 (UTC)

[ The beginning. Probably the smartest place to start. The last question leaves Tucker more than a little nonplussed. Luckily that's never stopped him before. ]

Okay, up front, there's a lot of stuff I don't have details on. Like, however stuff broke bad with your whole villain team routine exactly, I couldn't tell you. Caboose just picked up a recovery beacon for Church and we, y'know. Crashed the party. Fought the Meta. You helped us out.

[ He shrugs. ]

What else would you need to do? It's pretty straightforward, dude.

[Wash just straight up squints at him in complete disbelief.]

Earn your trust and/or friendship.

[He shakes his head with abrupt little, disbelieving head shakes.]

What is wrong with you people?

[ That gets a laugh out of him. Short and sharp, but no less genuine for it. ]

Easy. We're idiots. [ Wash doesn't remember the pre-Carolina base days. It's too bad. That was some real peak idiocy adjustment. ] All we ever used to do was shoot at each other. Caboose killed Church his first week! You think you're special or something?

[ He's only special in the unique way any of them are special. Shooting simply doesn't break the chart. ]

Yes! Because I actually did it on purpose!

I tried to kill two of you and then after a single fight where we were on the same side, you apparently ignored the fact I was dangerous and took me back home to where you sleep at night.

[He doesn't understand you!]

Who does that?

[ Man. It's a hard sell when Wash is actively questioning and arguing over this. Tucker almost feels bad that he doesn't have a long reasoning line to fall back on. Almost. ]

If you wanna hash it out with Donut and Lopez next time we see 'em, go for it. I dunno what to tell you. You were there, we were there, Project Freelancer screwed with all of us, then Church kinda screwed you over trying to stalk Tex in cyberspace. Plus it evened the teams back out.

[ He twists his mouth to one side, looks away. Because Emotions, gross. ]

You stuck with us after that, y'know? When we were doing boring base shit, when Carolina turned up with no chill and started dragging us around. Whenever we fucked something up. [ i.e. almost constantly. ] Maybe I'm not cut out for the hindsight explanation on this because I'm just used to you being one of us.

[Wash looks at Tucker carefully, trying to pick up on any possible deception. For all he knows this is some con to get him to trust someone he shouldn't. After all, this could just be a way for Tucker to get in close and stab him between the ribs to avenge the friends he claims are actually alive.]

[But he catches the the way Tucker looks away, the way he says "I'm just used to you being one of us" like it's been a sure thing for a long time, him belonging somewhere.]

[And the thing is...he's hasn't belonged anywhere since he left home to join the military. He was court martialed out of the space marines. He was arrested for trying to bring Freelancer to justice. He was left trying to carve out some freedom by force from a hostile world, turning against people who'd been mostly welcoming to him.]

[He doesn't belong anywhere -]

[- And at the same time he knows he does. He knows it's the truth.]

[He suddenly closes his eyes tight, as if he has to steady himself against an oncoming wave. His blood pressure spikes because part of him - part of his brain - has suddenly gotten agitated in response to being reminded of where he's supposed to belong...]

[Reminded of who he's supposed to be.]

["I'm sorry Caboose. I'm sorry your best friend left you without saying goodbye. Maybe he thought you would try and stop him or maybe it was too hard for him to tell you, but no matter the reason, he's still gone. He left you...both of you. I don't really do emotional things and I hoped you might have been able to get over this by yourselves, so I left you alone. And instead of coming to terms with what you lost, you replaced it with, well, the first thing you found. But I should have been there for you, Caboose, because that's what friends do for each other..."

"Captain Caboose is not your friend, he is your commanding -"

"Uh, no we're all friends here Freckles, it's, you know," Caboose had said.

"That's right, and as your friend I want to say that I'm sorry. I know it's not much, I made you this."

And then he placed his gift on the ground.]

[Wash's nose starts to drip blood.]

[He had been jotting things down in a little notepad the nurses had given him, trying to sort out some of his mixed up memories. His right hand reaches out for it almost compulsively in a shaky, jerking grab, almost like it's moving independently from the rest of his body. The same hand picks up the pen from his bedside tray and starts writing on the pad in jerky letters that almost carve the words into the paper:]

[Memory is the key.]

[And then Wash's right hand practically throws the note pad at Tucker. He reaches over and grabs his right hand with his left, trying to get it under control. And then says, now foggy and confused:]

I gave...I gave Caboose his helmet.

[Chorus. He'd asked about Chorus. But he doesn't need an answer. Part of it comes to him.]

And on Chorus I...I believed in you. I told you that -

[The blood pressure monitor registers a spike that causes it to start rapidly blaring alarms. One of the nurses, Special K, comes running over. "What's going on over here, Washing Machine?"]

[He breathes out:]

M-memory is the key.

[The words come from...somewhere else. Someone else.]

Memory is the key.

["Sweetie, you need to breathe, let's just take some deep breaths, okay?" she says, setting the blood pressure cuff to do another reading. She looks at Tucker, "What happened?"]

[ It's all fun and games until Wash starts to look like his brain got put into a lemon juicer. ]

Wash!? [ There's feasible acceptable limits in the "I'm not a doctor, I dunno how brain damage goes, maybe this was gonna happen, maybe it's that Stuff bullshit" walls, and then there's a real solid wall of "okay no you know what that should definitely not be what's happening," and this is about where the wall sits.

Like most theoretically good prospects, Wash remembering something goes hand in hand with some kind of awful consequence. It doesn't matter what happens or how many times it happens, consequences suck. So by the time the alarm's doing its thing and Special K runs over, Tucker is broadly just glad anyone even kinda medically competent is available to be on the scene. He's reached the peak of tense, white-knuckled notebook-gripping shrillness. ]

Fuck if I know! [ That is not even slightly useful. In his defense, his brain is busy looping I believed in you. And also, he's an idiot. ] We were just talking and he--

[ Tucker makes a vague and fruitless gesture at the man, the myth, the legend himself. Memory is the key. The key to a fucking aneurysm, apparently. ]

[He tries to calm down but every time he closes his eyes, his memory swims back and forth between two points in time.]

[Waking up after brain surgery, his head wrapped up, being told about the implant, with the stark reality of his situation laid before him, subtle threats artfully threaded through over the prospect of his noncompliance - he remembers that. Remembers the calm, remembers the quiet hopelessness, before he was dragged in for further questioning, and how calm those proceedings were too, even as he was getting zapped. They asked questions, he gave the right answers, they moved on.]

[It doesn't jive with the other point in time he keeps flashing to. Getting physically dragged into some strange shadow Infirmary different from this one. Bodily, because he kept throwing himself out of his gurney, fighting orderlies the whole way, even after feeling a pinch at his neck he knew was some kind of sedative. It'd made him more clumsy, but he hadn't stopped struggling and his adrenaline had been so high they couldn't even get him properly restrained. Like there'd been something important he was fighting for.]

[He was screaming something until he was hoarse, but he can't remember what it was, doesn't remember that the words had been a slurred, "You can't take them away!"]

[He doesn't remember the words but looking at Tucker - and the Infirmary around him - the panic is drawing from that moment, even if he can't fully remember it.]

[He's digging and a natural extension of pushing to remember what he lost is remembering some of how hard he fought to hold onto it.]

No. No. Nonono. I'm not staying here.

[He somehow knows K wasn't a part of it, faces blur but none were hers, but it doesn't matter.]

[Because he remembers Glotfelty's had been in that place. She hadn't been around after he was out of surgery, but now he remembers her being around before.]

I need to leave.

["Wash you're still hurt," Special K says.]

I need. To leave.

["We still need to monitor you -"]

I'm almost to the point I don't need to be on any IVs. Just taper me off, give me some crutches, and I'll come in for antibiotics and to get the bandages changed. I can recover in my room.

[He turns to Tucker and suddenly looks and sounds more like the Wash he knows.]

It's not safe for me here.

[He's bristling with the kind of profound agitation that almost inevitably precedes a fight, because it's rare for Wash to demonstrate this much lack of cool unless he's about to Mcfreakin' lose it.]

[ On the one hand, Nurse what's-her-face has a point, what with all the bleeding and beeping monitor stuff and whatnot.

On the other hand, fuck Jorgmund, fuck the Rig, and fuck their facilities. This could be the 100% proven Fort Knox of ethical care and safety and it kinda wouldn't matter as long as Wash thinks otherwise.

Tucker won't pretend he's feeling all saintly and selfless about the situation they're in. Wash is gonna take priority over everything and everyone else here. If someone else happens to get their bacon saved while Tucker's trying to keep a handle on Blue business, that's a happy accident.

So it takes all of zero seconds for him to jump on the support train. ]

You heard the man. Time to fast-track it. Trust me, him busting out unofficially would just be worse on all of us.

[ And worse on the medical equipment, realistically. ]

["You leave AMA and Dr. Glotfelty finds out," Special K warns. She picks up his chart and looks it over. Then her expression looks purposeful. "But she gave me some leeway in deciding when some of you can be discharged because she's too lazy to do it herself. So I'll sign off but there are going to be rules."]

[She puts his chart down and starts pulling some gauze and a vial and syringe from a nearby cart, sanitizing her hands and gloving up. "First, starting right now you've got to get your blood pressure down before I let you out of here. I'll give you something for it, but the rest is up to you. Seems like mostly nerves. Second, if I let you out you are to come and get your bandages changed once a day religiously, and do some PT on that leg. And third, I'm going to get you crutches and you need to stay off that leg for another two weeks minimum. No weight on it whatsoever. No exercise unless it's part of the PT." Her voice goes firm, even a little imperious. "Are we understood?"]

[Wash's voice is almost meek. She's kind of intimidating.]

Yes, ma'am.

["Religiously."]

Yes ma'am.

["Now let's take care of the fact that you're a mess." She comes closer, gauze in hand. Wash tenses and looks like he's about to push her away. She raises an eyebrow. "The magic words, Washing Machine." He relaxes a little.]

Nurses are underpaid and underappreciated.

[He untenses just slightly and lowers his arm. "No pudding this time, you'll just bleed in it," she says. She cleans the blood off Wash's face. He lets her, despite being in the throes of a burgeoning panic attack, something that makes it clear she's got a rare bit of his trust. She throws the gauze away and gets him some fresh gauze to hold against his nose. "Pinch your nose here," she pinches it where he's supposed to, "and lean forward." He does as he's told.]

I dow how, I'b had a few busted noses in my dime.

["I don't doubt that," she says. "I don't think this is serious. A spike in blood pressure can do it." ]

[She reaches for the vial and draws it up in a syringe. "This is a very, very mild sedative for your blood pressure and to get you to chill the fuck down."]

[Wash squirms uncomfortably but before he can say anything, she assures him, "Very, very mild okay? I'll even just give a half dose."]

[Wash nods reluctantly and she injects it into a port attached to his IV line. After a moment, he relaxes noticeably. The beeping starts to slow down and stop. He feels a calm settle over him but also still feels aware and with it, as promised.]

[She takes off the gloves, sanitizes her hands, and grabs his chart again. "I'll go sign off on the paperwork, and get those crutches and requisition a set of PTUs to send you out with, and a new uniform since yours got wrecked. And then I'll change your bandages before you go out the door."]

[Wash breathes out a sigh of relief.]

Dank ew.

["No problem. You hang tight," she says, and then she walks away, already checking things off on the chart with the attached pen. Wash collapses back against the bed, his shoulders finally untensing just slightly. He still looks nervous, feels the panic crowding in, but the heart monitor shows his vitals stabilizing a little.]

[He finally looks to Tucker again. Tucker, who immediately backed him up and looked ready to help him limp out of there.]

And dank ew doo.

I had flashes. Something...something bad. They...did someding to be.

[ Another day, another Jorgmund employee to watch like a hawk. She seems harmless enough for now. At least harmless enough to Wash for now, which is no small feat for a Wash this far behind the times.

They did something to me.

They did something, while none of the others were here to watch his back. They did something, and Wash doesn't remember exactly what it is. Just like he conveniently doesn't remember joining up with the Blues, or any of the crazy shit they've been through, or how they wound up being friends with him. Something bad.

Tucker sees red in a way he hasn't for a while. It dumps into him all at once, about as graceful as a stampede.

The fact that there's no one here he does trust 100% to watch out for Wash sort of keeps him tethered to his seat by a white-knuckled grip. The extremely enduring memory of what happened to Wash because of him the last time he got mad and charged into something without thinking, that takes care of the rest. Pulls him back by the proverbial collar.

But he does still vaguely look like he's trying to math out how to fight the overall concept of Jorgmund, in lacking specific targets at the moment. ]

Of course. Why would a bunch of sick assholes get a life when they could sign off on mad scientist bullshit instead?

[ When's the universe gonna cut Wash a break? Tucker's starting to have some beef with reality. ]

Whatever sass I was throwing about the buddy system, I take it back. You're so not doing any of that follow-up stuff by yourself. No fucking way. If Murderer McPsychopath gets caught anytime soon, we'll bullshit some other excuse.

[ Sometimes good strategy is basic common sense in a different wrapper. ]

[Wash briefly pulls the piece of gauze away. Now that he's calmed down slightly the nosebleed is tapering off pretty quickly.]

I was just...going to ask. I don't want to keep coming back here alone, even if I don't have to stay.

[His heart sinks at the thought of it, of coming back over and over, of being under Glotfelty's cold gaze when he knows she was there when - when what? What was it, what did they do? If the implant was going to help him, why was he screaming and fighting so vehemently? Was it just because they hadn't told him what they were about to do? Had they told him about how they were going to use it for leverage?]

[What was it they were taking away? A dawning anxiety starts to sweep over him. Was the "them" Tucker and his...his supposed friends? Was the Stuff not what had taken the memories?]

[A problem to solve later.]

For whatever reason, I...I think I trust you? Which, by the way, is mystifying because I don't trust anyone.

[A pause.]

Except for North, I guess. I trust him a little. I think I might ask him to stick around sometimes when I have to come back here, too.

[He wipes more blood from his face.]

He's here, and alive somehow when he was dead back home, like he got pulled from right before he was killed by Maine.

He's a Freelancer. Agent North Dakota.

[A trustworthy Freelancer other than Wash or Carolina: a wild concept for Tucker to try to wrap his head around.]

[ In shitty, messed-up circumstances like these, with all the messed-up stuff that someone went and did to Wash, it really does mean a lot that Wash somehow still has enough... whatever, Wash reserves, to trust him. Or think he trusts him. That's basically the same thing.

Tucker doesn't plan on dropping the ball on that. Not if he can help it. Once you've broken time for a dude, there's really no not being fully committed. Straining against the ever-present desire to do something angry and impulsive and stupid to get back at Jorgmund is a tragic burden he will have to bear for Wash's sake.

So he'll bottle that up in favor of the face-scrunch of obvious Freelancer-based distaste. Trustworthy Freelancer? Sounds fake. ]

Trust him a little like you can actually trust him, or trust him a little like "when he finally decides to sell us out or screw us over, he at least won't do it in public"?

[There's a lot of "us" in there. Wash is used to it having been only being "I" and "me" for a long time.]

[For good reason. Apparently the Meta was going to betray him (not shocking but he was hoping things would hold out long enough for him to get his freedom.) Before that, South shot him in the back. Before that, he'd dealt with the bitterness of other agents because the implantation program had been suspended thanks to his reaction to Epsilon.]

["What about the hostility from other agents who lost out on assignments once we suspended the use of implants?"

"What about them? Am I supposed to feel bad for them or something?"

"Do you think you could work with an A.I. or another agent ever again?"

"...No, I don't."]

[There is no "us." There hasn't been an "us" in a very long time. And even the last time there was an "us" it wasn't exactly like they'd been tight knit enough for anyone to care about him.]

[Each other, sure, for a few of them. Some of them had covered each other in their exits. While he sat in the Medbay, the crashed ship's emergency lights slowly fading.]

[And Tucker did it so casually. Talked about them like they were just automatically a unit. Like any betrayal would be something they both faced. Like Tucker wouldn't try to get in on it, and side with whatever side let him save his own skin.]

[He doesn't comment on it. He wants to be careful in how he assesses Tucker's trustworthiness over time. The unconscious instincts are promising - something vestigial left over from what he can't remember but...]

[He's been wrong before. He's tired of trusting people and being wrong. So he's treading carefully with this new unknown quantity.]

North was the one they gave Theta to. The AI fragment that was the Alpha's trust. Theta is...almost child-like. They chose North because he was the most nurturing.

He was always good at being supportive to the rest of the team. But in the end, right before she shot me in the back and left me for dead, South Dakota set him up to be killed by the Meta.

[His tone went tart.]

The fact that North was her brother apparently wasn't enough to make her hesitate. Somehow this place pulled him from before his death.

He wasn't the type to back stab. He was good at being trustworthy - but in the end it meant he was too trusting himself. Out of anyone from Freelancer, he's the one I'd distrust the least.

[Of course it was "distrust the least" and not "trust the most."]

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fuckingaqua - 2020-12-07 15:33 (UTC) - Expand

AGENT WASHINGTON

Re: video

Re: video

noooo i never got a notif for this

classic dreamwidth LOL

Re: classic dreamwidth LOL

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