Agent Washington (completelysane) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-02-03 03:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, agent carolina, agent washington |
Who: Wash and Carolina
When: backdated to September 27th through September 28th
Where: Hunting cabin in Yosemite
What: Days four and five of detox
Rating/Warnings: Medium for talk of past trauma
Status: Part Three Complete | Part One posted here | Part Two posted here
Day Four
The sleep Wash fell into was deep and seemingly endless, uninterrupted by dreams of any sort, fever or otherwise. The sun rose above the trees that surrounded their little cabin. Its rays, warm and jovial, poured through the living room window onto the couch, but they did not cause Wash to stir even once. Rather he remained where he was when the last of the hallucinations had finally released him into merciful unconsciousness. Laboured breathing of the day before was gone. He was still flush, still feverish, but the full body tremors had ceased. It appeared as though Wash was starting to come out on the other side of this. The ordeal had exhausted both his body and mind, both of which had shut down for a much needed recharge.
The dog spent the night seated at Carolina’s side on the floor next to the couch. Even after the former commanding officer had finally dropped off to sleep herself, the dog continued her silent vigil. Her head rested on the seat of the couch by Wash’s feet, her eyes watching him carefully for any missed breath, any sudden movement. Once the sun was up, the dog lifted her head off the cushion. She went to the door and pawed at it once. It had been a solid twelve hours since she had last been out and she could not wait any longer. When neither human responded to the scratching of claw against wood, the dog returned to the couch. She sat again and seemed to weigh her options. After another moment, she stood up again and nuzzled her nose against Carolina’s face and licked her cheek.
Climbing out of a deep sleep was infinitely easier when a dog was one’s alarm clock. Carolina wrinkled her nose at the odd sensation before it finally registered. Green eyes snapped open and she sat up sharply and turned to the couch to make sure nothing had happened to Wash. At the sight of him, she let out a relieved breath. He was still there, sound asleep. Thank God.
Rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palms, she took stock of the situation. Her empty cup was on its side a few feet away, where she assume it had ended up after falling from her lap. Wash was not quite snoring and looked as if nothing short of an air horn would make him so much as blink an eyelash. The dog was dancing on her paws, tail wagging and looking expectantly at the former Marine. Oh. Right. Carolina absentmindedly scratched the dog’s head before heading to the door to let the dog out. The German Shepherd headed out into the woods at a loping pace and had disappeared almost before Carolina had finished closing the door again.
First things first. Carolina sat down on the couch beside the sleeping figure, gently placing one hand on his forehead. He was still warm to the touch, but nowhere near as warm as he had been. There had been several moments the day before when she had not been sure if staying there, away from medical treatment, had been correct. It was nice to know that she had made the right decision, for once. Satisfied, she headed to the kitchen to clean out the coffee machine and start a fresh pot. A few minutes later she returned to the couch armed with coffee, toast, and a cool wet cloth to place on Wash’s forehead.
A scratch on the door announced the dog’s return and the former Marine actually smiled a greeting as she let the dog back inside. Seeing that the human had awoken, the dog curled herself up against the couch for a nap. Carolina watched the two sleeping figures with something akin to comfort. As unexpected as the dog’s presence had been, she had been more than grateful to have an extra pair of...paws to help keep track of Wash. Settling into the rocking chair beside the couch, she pulled a phone out of her pocket to make a few short texts. Then she leaned back to nurse her coffee and wait.
The morning hours ticked away and Wash slept right through them. He moved a couple of different times, rolling from his back to his side and back again, an indication that he had not in fact slipped into some kind of coma. The dog appeared to be asleep on the floor, however, both times Wash moved, she lifted her head off her paws and looked at him and then at Carolina. She did not bark or whine. As soon as Wash seemed settled again, the dog put her head down and closed her eyes again.
Around noon or so, the dog got up. She yawned and stretched and glanced at the still sleeping marine on the couch. Wash hadn’t moved again, and satisfied he was still sleeping, the dog padded her way over to Carolina. She sat down next to her and leaned her doggy frame against Carolina’s leg. She looked up at the woman, her tail wagging softly against the floor, a soft grin on her doggy face.
Looking up from her book, Carolina arched a quizzical eyebrow at the dog. The dog continued to smile back. Carolina turned back to her book, but a moment later one hand left the tome to gently scratch the canine’s ears. The dog turned to give Carolina’s palm a few little licks that were just short of ticklish. She continued to watch the woman expectantly and nuzzled her hand as if hoping book-time was over so that play-time could begin.
The human rolled her eyes and finally gave in. “I guess this is what they mean by puppy eyes.” She muttered as she closed the book and stretched. Sensing the change, the dog stood up, ears up and looking far more happy and excited than Carolina thought was rightly justified. Especially since she was not entirely sure what there was in the cabin that could be used as a toy or game for a dog. Other than her book and the box of board games York had gifted them, there was not much in the way of entertainment.
A quick glance at the couch confirmed that Wash was still sleeping. The dog followed Carolina as she headed to the kitchen. She put on another pot of coffee and checked on their supplies. They were running out of lunch meat. However, she did find a box of cheese nips. She held the box out in front of the dog. “What do you think? Crackers?” The dog tilted her head, listening, but it was anyone’s bet if she actually understood what the human was saying. Reaching into the box she pulled out a square and tossed it in the dog’s direction. It was caught mid-air and gone in seconds. Huh. Carolina threw another one. The dog raised herself up to catch it this time and stood up, tail wagging and eager for more.
By the time the coffee was finished brewing, the small crackers were being thrown halfway across the room and the dog was jumping up in the air to catch them long before they had a chance to hit the floor. The few crackers that the dog missed were quickly snatched up and eaten as well. But Carolina did not worry about having to sweep up later; the dog rarely missed.
It was sometime (and most of a box of Cheese Nips) later when Wash stirred again. He tossed and turned for a few minutes before getting up from the couch. Still being more asleep than awake, there wasn’t much in the way of any sort of acknowledgement to Carolina or the dog as he made his way to the bathroom.
The dog noted Wash was moving, but did not give up snatching treats out of the air until she heard the bathroom door close. She glanced at Carolina as if to say “wait a sec” and padded her way over to the door. She sniffed along the bottom for a moment before sitting and waiting. When she heard flushing from within, she got to her feet, tail wagging slowly. When Wash emerged, still more asleep than awake, the dog walked with him from the bathroom back to the bedroom where he’d slept the first night. She seemed to guide him towards it, as a matter of fact. Once the former marine had flopped onto the bed and was asleep again, the dog rejoined Carolina in the main room, tail wagging furiously in anticipation of resuming the game of “Catch the Cheese Snack!”
When the dog appeared with no Wash, Carolina frowned. It was her turn to tell the dog to wait as she headed to the hallway to see just where the man had gone. The second door she opened revealed the sleeping figure. The momentary tension drained as she leaned against the doorframe, taking a moment to watch her brother sleep. She was rewarded with the sound of a soft snore coming from beneath the blankets.
Giving an amused snort, Carolina straightened and went to check Wash’s temperature with a cool hand. The fever was all but gone. No need to fetch the wet cloth again this time. His brow was no longer furrowed with nightmares and worry. Wash’s body had officially succumbed to the exhaustion that came after all the strain he had been placing on both his body and mental chemistry while the alcohol was expelled from his blood.
Feeling oddly protective, she arranged the blankets around Wash before heading out of the room. The dog was waiting for her at the end of the hallway, head tilted as she waited patiently for the human to return. Closing the door softly behind her, Carolina gave the canine a small smile. “I think we’re in the clear, but we should let him sleep a bit longer. There’s only a few hours left before dinner, anyway.” She paused, realizing that the dog was still looking at her with the same patient doggy grin.
And now I’m talking to a dog. Great. At least I don’t expect her to talk back. Shaking her head, Carolina passed the dog and took up the box of cheese crackers. Right on cue, the German Shepherd took up her position at the opposite end of the room, tail wagging in happy anticipation. There was still part of a box of cheese nips left and this was definitely more entertaining than her book.
Day Five
Wash was up a couple more times that evening and through the night. He was awake only long enough to go to the bathroom. Each time the door opened, the dog was there, ready to guide him to the toilet. She waited patiently for him to finish business and then guided him back to his bed. When it appeared she was certain he was asleep again, she joined Carolina again in the living room, laying by her feet while the woman ate her dinner, drank her coffee and read her book.
It wasn’t until the next morning when Wash stumbled from the bedroom. He’d been sleeping for hours and yet he still felt as though he hadn’t slept quite enough. His body felt stiff and sore. His throat burned and his head felt stuffy and full. His mouth felt as though he’d been eating cotton. He was thirsty. Oh god, he was so thirsty.
After using the bathroom, Wash ventured out into the living room. The air felt cool on the bare skin of his arms and torso. Much cooler than it had the day before - or the day before that - How long had they been there, Wash wondered. How much time had he lost? “Carolina?” he said carefully, his voice hoarse from sleep and disuse.
“Out here.” Carolina called back. Woman and dog were sitting out on the porch enjoying the cool morning air. Both doors were propped open with small pieces of kindling, allowing what breezes came their way to whisk away the stale air from the last few days. Noting the page number, she put the book down by her empty coffee cup and picked up a mostly-full bottle of water. The dog was already ahead of her, padding over to the sleepy Marine with her tail wagging happily in greeting.
The redhead was not far behind, pulling the screen door closed behind her. “Here.” She offered him the bottle. From the sound of it, Wash needed it more than she did. “Wasn’t sure if you’d sleep through today too.” Carolina looked over him with a critical eye. As much as he still looked like death warmed over, he looked better than he had yesterday. She raised her other hand up to his forehead. “Fever’s gone.”
To be perfectly honest, Wash sort of felt like reheated death. However, he was feeling considerably better than he had before. At least he was thinking a lot more clearly, even if he had somehow managed to lose several hours in a fog he was unable to penetrate. That was a start. He let Carolina feel his forehead. He hadn’t even been aware he’d had a fever, but still, good thing it was gone now. Even better, the full body shakes seemed to have disappeared as well as had the nausea. If he could get just a couple more hours of sleep, maybe he’d actually survive this ordeal.
He took the offered bottle gratefully. The water felt absolutely fucking fantastic on his throat and Wash greedily gulped down what remained in the bottle before coming up for air again. He could have probably drank a half dozen more bottles that size before his throat felt normal again.
“How long was I out?” He asked after he had taken a few deep breaths. He glanced down at the dog at his side, a little surprised to see her there and not camping out under the kitchen table as she had been earlier. He must have been sleeping longer than he thought. “What time is it?”
They were going to need a lot more water at the rate Wash was going. Carolina pulled back and headed toward the kitchen to get him a cup instead. At least that would be easier to refill than her water bottle. “It’s mid-morning, Wednesday.” It was nice to see him lucid again. In fact, haggard looks aside, his eyes looked a lot clearer. Sharper than they’d been in months. “You slept all through yesterday. Wasn’t entirely sure you weren’t going to do the same today.”
She handed him the cup. “Take your time with this one.” Straws. A straw would have been best for this kind of hydration. What were the chances that York had tossed a bag of silly straws in with the rest of those games? Carolina made a note to check. In the meantime... “Small gulps.” She advised Wash. He had not been able to eat much of anything over the past few days, so he probably had a few meals to catch up on today.
“Wednesday,” Wash breathed. Christ. He had lost two whole days. He rubbed the back of his neck wearily. “I could have probably slept more,” he admitted, “but I needed to drink something.” Plus his hip and back were actually sore from laying in the same position for hours.
Wash took the cup of water Carolina handed him. It was tempting to gulp it down as he had the water bottle, but the cold water did not make his empty belly particularly happy. So, he followed Carolina’s instructions and took small gulps from the cup, trying to space them out enough so he wasn’t constantly gulping down water enough to make himself sick. He’d had enough of that to last him a good long while.
And speaking of which. Even though he hadn’t eaten anything for about two days, he didn’t have an appetite for anything. His stomach felt empty, an all too familiar feeling of hollowness, but the thought of filling that hollow made him gag a little.
He sat on the couch and the dog had a seat on the floor next to him. He reached out a tired hand to rub her head behind her ears. He glanced towards his sister. There were things he wanted to say to her, things he wanted to ask about the last two days. He was starting to catch little bits and pieces here and there that didn’t make much sense, but he didn’t know what to say to her. “Have...have you slept at all?”
Carolina shrugged. “Here and there.” At least, after her had finally settled down and had shown no signs of hallucinations. She watched him with the dog for a moment, debating. He looked as if he was trying to figure something out. Perhaps she should let him. There had been a lot of things he had said in his more lucid moments that had given her a good amount to think about. If Wash was trying to sort through any part of that, a little time to process those things would definitely be beneficial.
Turning, she headed back to the small kitchenette to see if there was something small for him to snack on. There wasn’t much. The majority of the supplies left in the cabin were canned soups and bread. Neither she nor York had considered that the supplies would have to extend to a third person - or in this case, a canine.
There was always the option of supplementing their supplies with fresh fish and game, but that was entirely dependent on how Wash was feeling. Something as simple as hiking out to the nearest lake or fish-bearing stream might be too much too soon. Although he was in good shape and had covered a good distance the other day, the outing had definitely taken its toll on the Gunney. While he had been asleep Carolina had managed to treat and wrap most of the injuries sustained from that particular jaunt, but he should probably stay off his feet as much as possible until he had healed up a bit more.
The rest of the cold cuts and cheese nips had gone to the dog, but there was still a roll of Ritz and a slab of cheese in the fridge. Grabbing a plate, she headed back over to sit on the couch beside Wash. She handed him the crackers with a look that plainly stated that he was to eat them, whether or not he thought he was hungry. Carolina pulled out her utility knife and began slicing up pieces of cheese. “How much do you remember?” She asked carefully, prepared to fill in the gaps where she could.
Wash looked at the plate of crackers and cheese wearily. The empty pit in his gut rolled lazily over, but it’s contents - namely bile - remained where it was supposed to. He picked up one of the crackers and slowly began to nibble at it.
He raised his eyes up to look at Carolina as she sliced up a few pieces of cheese. He was quiet for a moment. If she was asking if he remembered anything something must have happened and the few bits and pieces he currently had weren’t figments of his imagination or the remnants of a nightmare that, for some reason, left him cold and on edge.
Wash shook his head. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. He looked down at his bandaged feet. He’d been outside at some point, he thought. “I was running,” he started with a glance towards the window. His eyes narrowed a bit, squinting against the sun streaming in. “Outside.” Which explained why his feet hurt and he had several odd cuts and abrasions on his arms and torso. Why had he gone outside? He had a dream-like memory of hearing gunshots, shouts of battle. A scream. “Gale,” Wash said the name with a sharp intake of breath. Grey eyes darted back to Carolina. “I heard Gale screaming.”
Carolina finished cutting a few more slices of cheese before setting down the block and closing the knife. There was no easy way to explain what had happened to him. She could see him trying to sort through the fog, but she was doubtful that he would ever remember all of it. In many ways, she was grateful for that. Only one of them needed to remember everything. However, she hoped that Wash would understand enough to become a serious deterrent from ever falling off the wagon.
She sighed. Best to get it over with as quickly as possible, like ripping off a bandaid. “You were hallucinating.” Green eyes were steady as they looked back at Wash. “You thought you heard screams in the forest and you took off to try and help. When we got back you passed out on the couch.” Not that he seemed to have gotten very restful sleep, but he had slept.
Carolina turned to the plate, taking a piece of cheese and picking at it. “You stopped sometime yesterday morning.” She nodded to the canine. “The dog watched over you too, actually. Practically herded you back to the room.” There was a strong possibility that she was becoming attached to the stray. Maybe she could see if York would like a dog…
Wash glanced at the dog seated next to them for a moment before looking back at the table and the plate of crackers. His brows furrowed tightly. Carolina’s brief explanation cleared the fog slightly, letting a few more memories slip through. He could remember stumbling through the sand. He’d seen bodies, lots of bodies. The bodies of his squadmates. The bodies of his friends. And blood. So much blood. Wash’s hand left the dog’s ear and moved to his own head, fingers digging into his temples. “It was so real,” he said softly. He looked back to Carolina next to him. “But…everyone’s alright, right? York, Gale, Anna… You’ve checked?” They were miles away from Orange County, but Wash didn’t trust that the powers that ruled the place hadn’t tracked the two Freelancers all the way up here. He obviously couldn’t trust his own senses.
“They’re all fine.” Carolina confirmed. She had already sent out a few texts to York that morning to make sure that he and Suda were getting along alright. At least Wash seemed to be accepting of her explanation, as concise as it was. Being told that you had been feverish and seeing things could sometimes be as disconcerting as going through them in the first place. “From what I hear, Orange County has been quiet since we left.”
It was hard to forget the scene Wash had described out in the forest, and she had not been the one seeing it in front of her. Gently, she placed a hand on his leg in an effort to keep him grounded again. “It wasn’t real, Wash. None of it was.” Carolina paused, assessing his awareness to make sure he would understand if she explained. “It’s called delirium tremens. Your body was forced to overcompensate in order to return your brain chemistry to normal.” She gave him a small, wry smile. “You are, quite literally, not the same person anymore.”
Upon hearing that his friends were all alright, a great deal of the tension Wash had been holding went away and his body visibly relaxed. He felt a little as though he were in a fog. He remembered so little about the last couple of days, except for the bodies of his friends, how each one of them looked out there. It had been so real, like the memories he got from the Dreams. Once again, Wash found himself struggling to determine what was real and what wasn’t. Carolina’s hand on his leg went a long way to keep him calm.
He appreciated hearing the science behind what he’d gone through – that it had a name – and he listened closely, nodding his head slowly. “So, what happened, that was normal?” He sounded a bit more hopeful than he intended. What he really wanted to hear was that he wasn’t crazy. His sanity always seemed to be hanging on by a tenuous thread and he’d lost hold of it once already. “When Epsilon…” He started and then stopped. The tips of his fingers dug a little more into the flesh by his temple. That had been real as well. Too real. But it had all been so wrong too.
Carolina’s eyes softened in understanding. Epsilon. Wash had always been reluctant to talk about what had happened to him because of the A.I. She had never been entirely sure if that had been the cause of his drinking or simply yet another stressor that kept him falling deeper into the bottle. That he even started to mention it now had her hoping that maybe this time, he would be able to deal with what had happened. Or at least start.
Reaching up, she pried one hand away from his temple as she saw the fingers go white. “The more dependent your body is on alcohol, the stronger the symptoms of withdrawal. Considering how much you were drinking, I would have been more surprised if you hadn’t hallucinated.” Relieved, but definitely surprised. Carolina gripped his hand tightly. “What I mean is yes, it was perfectly normal. You’re probably going to feel like shit for a few weeks, or even months, but the worst of it is over.”
So, he wasn’t crazy was the point she was trying to make. Wash would gladly swallow that point, too, because Carolina was his CO, and she wouldn’t lie to him. If there really was something wrong, she would have said so and then proceeded to do something about it. It was the way it always had been, in both realities. And the entire reason they were here.
Wash lowered his eyes down to the cracker still in his other hand. He’d nibbled the edges, but had quickly abandoned it as they talked. Now that he was on the other side – a different person, as Carolina put it – he could look back on the past year with a clearer sense of what he’d been doing. He still didn’t understand it. All he knew was there was a lot of pain and a lot of anger and the alcohol dulled it all to something he could manage, even ignore. He’d wanted to die and alcohol made that thought a lot less frightening. In the end, though, he’d managed to only scare, hurt and embarrass those who mattered most to him.
He pulled back from Carolina. His hand slid out of hers, but didn’t go back to his temple. Instead it found its way to the back of his neck where the data jack was imbedded in his skin.
Carolina watched him in silence for a bit, watching her words slowly filtering through. She could see the thoughts play across his face and wondered if her thoughts were as transparent to him. Probably. Blood relation aside, the two of them had spent many years living in close quarters and trusting one another with their lives. In combat, deciphering microexpressions and body language of their team members as well as the locals could literally mean the difference between life and death. In short, if anyone had a chance at looking past her poker face, it was probably Wash. Or York, for that matter.
Clearly, Wash was still having difficulties accepting that he was going through was normal and not an indication of a more serious mental condition. He was already dealing with his own personal cocktail of PTSD; adding additional self-doubt to the mix would not help anything. Carolina slowly finished the cheese in her hand, taking the time to collect her thoughts. She had always been a private person, choosing to keep her burdens to herself. After thirty-four years the omissions had become second nature and only the ones who respected that boundary had any chance of getting close to the woman. But Wash wasn’t just anyone. He was her family and he deserved to see her flaws just as clearly as she saw his. Without having to ask.
“‘Unfit but treatable’.” The words came out a bit more awkward and further into the story than she had intended, but Carolina forced herself to continue. Her eyes rested on her hands before looking back up at Wash. “That was what I got on my psych eval after coming home. My unit was…The three of us...” She swallowed, unsure how to open that particular can of worms, so she skipped over it. “I wasn’t just home on leave when I found out about you from Father. I was pulled from active duty, my return contingent on passing another eval in three months.”
Carolina let out a long breath. “Honestly, I don’t know if I would have passed the second one the way I was going. Eventually, I decided that having a… well, a mission to find my half-brother would do me more good than a hundred more sessions with those damn PsychOs. Two months into my ‘treatment’, I resigned my commission and came looking for you instead.” Her eyes were steady as she looked up at Wash. “I don’t regret making that choice.”
Carolina’s words explained a lot, and at the same time raised so many more questions. The look Carolina got when she raised her eyes to him was a dark offended frown. Unfit was like a four-letter obscenity in the armed forces. No one wanted to be labeled unfit. To Wash it was as though they’d called Carolina a bitch or a cunt. No one came after his C.O. that way.
Not to say that he was terribly surprised, though. He’d been there during that training exercise. He had seen the way Carolina’s obsession with Tex and her squad ate away at her. And he’d listened to Carolina when she had told him what had happened to the others during their last assignment, what had happened to their new rookie - Andersmith. Wash had heard it in Carolina’s voice. The guilt. Guilt over everything that had been beyond her control. You carry that type of baggage around with you and it is bound to affect you and those above you who are paid to scrutinize your every move are going to notice. Lables like unfit weren’t batted around frivolously.
As Carolina continued her tale, Wash’s brows relaxed their deep furrow and the frown melted into something unreadable. He realized what she was doing. Not once since she had gotten back had he pressured her into talking to him - telling him about the nightmares that kept her up at night, or drove her to his apartment at two a.m. He could guess given what she had told him and he’d left it at that. Carolina was a private person. Like him. It could take her a long while to open up to someone about something bothering her, even someone close to her. Like him. Was that a Church thing? Wash sometimes wondered how much of their personalities were genetic.
Carolina was opening up to him now. She wasn’t telling him everything and Wash never expected her to. What she was telling him was important. These were things she wouldn’t tell anyone else. She trusted him with this information.
“I’m sorry, Boss,” he said softly and earnestly. He knew first hand what it was to be cast off. The feeling of uselessness, flailing around without purpose. His eyes lowered towards the cheese for a moment before looking up. “Thank you for coming to find me,” he went on. “I didn’t think…” he cleared a rogue itch in his throat. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again. Not here. You were in my Dreams.” She knew that, of course. “And then you weren’t. I wasn’t there when The Meta went after you. I should have been.” Just as he should have been with them during their last mission. “I’m sorry I wasn’t. Boss.” He took a deep breath, nails digging into the flesh around the jack, the same jack Carolina had in the back of her neck. “Everything changed when Epsilon unraveled. I saw things that didn’t make sense. I felt things that didn’t make sense and I panicked.”
“I should have come looking sooner. I’m sorry it took all of that before I started.” The location of Wash’s hand did not go unnoticed, even if she could not see how much force was being applied. In her mind, there was no need for Wash to be sorry. It had not been his job to look after her; in fact, it was the other way around. She had been the one who had not been there for him when he had needed her the most. Carolina started to say just that before stopping herself. He already knew that. Yet he was blaming himself for not being able to prevent the impossible. Just like she had. Was, if she were honest with herself. Another way the two them seemed to be alike.
The former Marine paused, considering. Then, maybe what Wash needed to hear would be similar too. He didn’t need to be reassured that no one could have foreseen Sigma’s betrayal or Epsilon destroying itself inside his head, but something else entirely. Words she had told herself, but never quite managed to believe were true. Maybe if she could get him to believe it, there was a chance for her to do the same.
Carolina shifted on the couch so that she could place her hand on Wash’s arm. “It’s okay. You reacted badly, and it’s okay.” Even now, she could hear their father quoting yet another dead man after she had failed to reach a goal he had set for her. ’Your concern should not be whether or not you failed, but whether you are content with your failure.’ Back then, she had always assumed that he was trying to tell her that the reason she had failed was because she had not cared enough or put enough effort into succeeding. Looking back now, perhaps she had missed the lesson he had been trying to teach her.
“I know what it’s like to have someone else in your head. I don’t know whether you could have prevented Epsilon from doing what he did or if he would have done it on his own. We’ll probably never know.” Carolina shrugged. It didn’t matter, anyway. “But those PsychOs were right about one thing: talking about what happened makes it a hell of a lot easier to process. You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, but I’m not going anywhere.” One side of her mouth quirked upward. “And it’s not like we have much else to do here, unless you want to try another board game.”
The sad truth of it was, Wash did know. Well, he had an idea anyway. The Alpha was based on The Director himself. It had his wants, his desire, his drive. Even as The Director had subjected it - him - to horror after horror, causing him to crack and splinter and break until the last shards of it were so damaged they caused more harm than good. The Director was a smart man. He had to have known that. He had more or less confessed as much to Wash when he had infiltrated the Freelancer Command Facility on his foolhardy suicide mission. ’It was Epsilon. He inherited the memories’. Wash had thought at the time that he’d just put the pieces together, but now…’What was that he said about goodbyes?’
Wash closed his eyes. Epsilon whispered, but it was quieter than it had been in months. “He knew,” he murmured as his mind grinded on. He knew, and he didn’t care. He wanted to see what happened. Except...for Alison… Even Carolina hadn’t been spared. His own daughter. She was a soldier, the best of the best, but she had been used just like the rest of them. Wash blinked, recalling Carolina writhing in pain on the training room floor and screaming, begging, for the voices to stop.
Their Dreams paralleled their lives. Not everyone’s did, but the Dreams he and Carolina had, at their cores, they were pretty damn close. Dr. Church was as aloof to his daughter here as he had been in the Dreams. Carolina barely spoke of him. Their father. Nails dug deep furrows in the back of Wash’s neck. What he wanted to ask next wasn’t easy, and it would be even more difficult for Carolina to answer. However, she was right. They had the time. They were alone. No one else would hear. They were safe here. They may never get a chance like this again. “What are we to them?”
Carolina frowned. He knew? There were a lot of similarities between the Director in their Dreams and their father in real life, but he would not have attempted implantation if he had known that Epsilon was as unstable as he was…right? The more she thought about it, the more unsure she was about that. After all, if he had treated the birth of his own son as some sort of opportunity for a developmental study, he certainly would have no qualms about using an unrelated volunteer for the Freelancer program.
“What are we to whom?” To the military? To their father? Carolina was not sure she knew the answer to either, but she could try to answer it, for Wash’s sake.
“Them,” Wash repeated, then sighed and shook his head. “Since I found that box at the storage unit, I’ve been wondering. Why did my mother even bother to keep me around? She’d faked everything, my school records, report cards. She didn’t actually need me to scam Dr. Church out of all that money. And she didn’t love me. I’ve known that since I was a kid, even before she decided it was ok that Ralph hit me all the time. So what was I to her? And Dr. Church.” Wash voice had become strained, squeezed out around a growing tightness in his throat made of both grief and anger. “What was I to him? A study? How a male child develops without the influence of a father? Or was it ego? Because he was some kind of genius, no son of his would be caught in a public school. Even a bastard one. Did he read any of the letters my grandmother sent, or did they just filed away as part of a study, or out of some obsessive compulsion to keep records?”
Wash was on his feet now. The dog opened her eyes and raised her head as if concerned another dangerous run through the woods was about to happen. She edged a little forward, drawing her legs under her, ready to move at a moment's notice.
“And you,” Wash went on. “You lived with him. You are his daughter, but he didn’t treat you any better. The way your stuff was at the storage facility. No sentiment. No contact. And the military. We served. We were loyal. We were good. But when we served no more purpose, they got rid of us. You. Me. York. What are we to any of them?”
The frown on Carolina’s face only deepened as Wash spoke. He was right. She had only met his mother once, but the woman had seemed far more concerned about getting those boxes out of the garage rather than the fact that her son had been in a coma for three months. Her father had not even bothered to go to either of her graduations. Both times he had told her that he was faah too busy with important matters to go to some frivolous ceremony. All he had cared about was receiving a copy of her final grades and tests. Everything else had been superfluous to him.
She wanted to say she didn’t know, but that was a lie. It was not that she didn’t understand, but that she didn’t want to understand. She didn’t want to know how little it would take for a parent to forget about his or her child. Carolina moved forward, lacing her fingers together as she sat on the edge of the couch. Wash had asked the questions she had ignored for so long and he deserved to hear her actual thoughts on the matter, not some platitude or blanket avoidance.
“The truth?” The glare in her green eyes was not for Wash, but for the people who were the reason the question haunted the man in the first place. “To the military, we were tools. No different from a carpenter’s hammer or saw. If the hammer gets bent or the saw can only cut half of the time, it’s time to retire them and get a fresh set of tools.” Carolina scowled. “Hell, even my resignation is only for as long as they don’t need more officers out in the field. If they wanted to, I could be recalled for that psych test and shipped out to the other side of the world within the month and I wouldn’t be able to do a goddamned thing about it. We’ve seen it before. From the moment we signed those papers our lives weren’t really our own anymore. If they ever were.”
Carolina stood as well, unable to continue sitting as anger and frustration set her on a slow burn. “As for our father? I used to think that I was a reminder of his dead wife. Fuck, I even felt guilty about it. That it wasn’t me who died instead of her, even though that makes no sense. The only thing he ever asked me about was school. Who knows, maybe we were both just one of his fucking studies.” She ran a hand through her hair, pacing away from Wash to the door and back, trying to get a hold of her temper again. Talking about their father was one sure way to make her see red. It was part of why she hated saying anything in the first place. She was under no delusion that she was easy to deal with when angry and she didn’t want Wash to have to be the one to calm her down.
A few deep breaths and circuits later, Carolina finally paused. “That’s not… entirely fair.” The words were like pulling teeth, but they were true, and she had told Wash that she was going to tell him the truth. “I don’t think he actually understood what to do as a parent. I never met our grandparents, but I don’t think they were very close. He was so damn obsessed with his job, maybe turning us both into a case study was his way of making sure that he wouldn’t get too buried in work to remember that we existed.” She shook her head. The child she had been would have traded the world for five minutes a night with her father.
“As for your mother…” Carolina shrugged. “I don’t know her very well. Most of what I know of her is what you’ve told me.” And that wasn’t very much. “But...it sounds like she liked the idea of being a mother, of having someone who would love her and yet not judge her for what she did, but when it came to actually being a mother,” She looked at Wash, eyes full of understanding, not pity. “I don’t think she wanted to be responsible for anyone but herself.”
Wash knew these weren’t easy questions to answer. He knew and understood Carolina’s reluctance to answer them. He watched her as she moved. As she leaned forward on the couch and finally got to her feet to pace the living room as well. The last thing he’d wanted to was to cause his sister any pain, but he needed to hear what she had to say, about everything.
The military had used them as tools, however, the analogy was oddly comforting. The two of them were well used and broken and the marines had recognized that and given them up before they were broken beyond repair. They may have been discarded, but they weren’t beyond saving. Wash understood that better now than he had before.
He held his breath when Carolina’s answer turned towards their father. He had expected it to be painful for her to talk about him. He didn’t really understand why, but if the Dreams were as close to reality as he suspected them to be, he could make a pretty good guess. So he was a little surprised to hear Carolina kind of defend him, even if it was only after she had allowed her own bitterness and hurt seep up to the surface. Maybe they had been only studies, and maybe that was the only way Dr. Church knew how to deal with them. Wash wished that hadn’t been the case. If only Allison hadn’t been taken away so young, or if only Dr. Church had been more prepared. Well...the world was made up of What If’s and If Only’s…
And he couldn’t say for sure if Carolina was right about their father or his mother. He was willing to accept that she would know Dr. Church better than he would, but even then that wasn’t necessarily the case. And his mother? Had she wanted someone to love her unconditionally? Wash let out a breath. He didn’t want to admit it, but, after everything she had done, everything she had put him through, he did still love her. She was his mother.
“Some people aren’t meant to be parents,” he said softly. “And the fucked up thing is that they become parents anyway.”
“Unfortunately.” The bitterness was still evident in Carolina’s voice but the red had faded from her vision. No matter how many times Dr. Church pissed her off or how many nights she cried herself to sleep because of him, she still loved her father; she wanted to make him proud of her. And she would defend him and his actions when it came to her, just as she had been doing since she was barely able to walk. The way he had treated Wash was a completely different story. She had no qualms about redressing the man that had fathered her brother without ever actually being his father.
Carolina massaged her temples with one hand. God, they were both fucked up. It was enough to make her never want to have kids herself, just in case shitty parenting was hereditary. She studied Wash for a moment before acquiescing. Maybe it wasn’t entirely hereditary. After all, Wash wasn’t nearly as much of an asshole as she was. He’d actually make a pretty doting father. The image of a frazzled Wash chasing a stubborn toddler refusing to be put down for a nap made her snort.
As if sensing the humans were ready for a distraction, the dog chose that moment to paw at the door. The sound drew their attention away from the seriousness of the conversation. The German Shepherd looked up at them expectantly, tail wagging, then to the door and back again. Nature had interesting timing. With a huff that was more fond than annoyed, Carolina gave in. They still had plenty of time to talk. “You’re still recovering. Try to get a few more crackers and cheese in if you can.” It was going to be a slow road back to full health, but the worst was behind them.
Wash did manage to eat a little more, but by the time the dog returned to the cabin he had once again returned to his bed and Carolina was back on the porch, reading. The rest of the evening passed in much the same way. The former CO finished her book during one of his naps in the afternoon. That night, Carolina slept in the second bedroom for the first time since they had arrived at the cabin. The door was still left open and the woman still woke to check on him periodically, but a little bit of trust had returned. The dog ended up curling up most of the night beside Wash’s bed, keeping her own watch over the humans that occupied the cabin.