Who: Wash and Carolina When: September 29th and 30th Where: Hunting cabin in Yosemite What: Sibling bonding during the last two days at the cabin; Wash's birthday and the two adopt a dog. Rating/Warnings: lowish Status: Part Four Complete! | Part One here | Part Two here | Part Three here
Day Six The next morning, Carolina got up before dawn. It was Wash’s birthday. For once, her years spent moving unseen and unheard through the night in full gear and combat boots was going to come in handy in her civilian life. Her feet kept to the edge of the hallway, holding her breath as she poked her head into his room. Good. Wash was still asleep. The dog had apparently found her way on top of the bed and had curled up against the sleeping man’s feet. The twitching of paws made her smile. Apparently the dog was dreaming quite soundly, perhaps chasing rabbits of some sort.
As silently as she had come, Carolina headed back down the hallway toward the kitchen. Part of her relaxed, more comfortable hiding the signs and sounds of her presence than trying to make sure she would always be heard. Old habits. Reaching into the cupboard, she pulled out a box of Grape Nuts cereal. She knew Wash would avoid the stuff, even if he had been hungry enough to rummage around. Inside the box were a variety of silver, brown, and olive green packets. Meals ready to eat, courtesy of the U.S. Military.
Granted, the packets had a (well-earned) reputation for not being all that tasty. It was something which everyone who had been given a set of packets had attempted to remedy in one way or another. Carolina had known of people both making and receiving MRE cookbooks for that specific purpose. Not that she needed one for this particular dish. It had become a long-standing tradition in their squad that someone who had a birthday in the field would end up with a field-ration cake. In this case, a rather improvised chocolate and peanut butter cake. She put on a pot of coffee. The cake itself was practically ready-made - as expected of an MRE - and by the time she was spreading on the icing made of hot chocolate mix and instant milk, the coffee was well on its way to filling the carafe.
Wash awoke with a German Shepherd using his feet as a pillow. He had no idea what it was about dogs, but they just had a way to make everything seem...better. Even a week spent in a hunting cabin in the middle of nowhere tripping fucking balls while one’s body rid itself of toxins.
The former marine probably could have spent the rest of the morning where he was, snugged cozily in his bedroll with the comforting presence of a dog. He was feeling better today, but still not 100%. It would be a while yet before he reached that point. The fact that the hunting cabin was so isolated, so remote, made him feel better. Secure.
Wash could smell the coffee brewing in the kitchen. Carolina was awake. It unnerved him that he’d been asleep so deeply that he hadn’t heard her get up and start moving around. Then again, this was Carolina. She moved as he did. Silently. It was second nature to them both so much so that they had to make a conscious effort to make their movements known. Since moving in together, they each at startled the other at some point or another. Announcements when they arrived at the apartment had become a silently agreed upon habit in order to avoid staring down the barrel of a gun.
Because of this, Wash was sure to make a few noises when he finally ventured from his room. Although, the effort wasn’t necessary. His body was still recovering from his jaunt into the woods and had gone from sore to stiff. His knees creaked and the knuckles of his toes and the bones in his ankles made cracking popping noises as he walked. The abrasions on his feet were still bandaged and caused him to limp. It would be another day yet before he could get socks on, let alone his boots. His poor feet felt naked and exposed.
He was rubbing at his shoulder when he entered the kitchen, his hand occasionally moving to palm over the bullet scar on his chest. The dog was with him, seeming to prefer the company of her new found human companions over having the bed all to herself.
Carolina’s head tilted in the direction of the hallway as she heard Wash make his way to the living room. She appreciated that he had made sure to let her know that he was awake, even though she had not done the same that morning. He seemed to still be limping, but they both knew that if he had wanted to, he could be just as silent as she had been. The soft click click click of nails against the wood floor let her know that the German Shepherd had also decided to join them for breakfast.
Since they had given all of the lunch meat to the dog, there was still most of a loaf of bread waiting to be used, so Carolina had decided to make some improvised French toast. Cinnamon applesauce counted as cinnamon, right? It wasn’t the fanciest of breakfasts, but it was enough of a change from the usual bacon and eggs that she hoped it would feel a little special. The first two pieces of soaked bread were placed in the skillet as the two entered the room.
“Coffee?” She asked, not turning from the stove. Her body blocked the small cake from view as she quickly cleaned up the remaining packets and hid the dessert behind the cereal box.
“Coffee,” Wash responded through a yawn that not only overtook him, but was a lot louder and deeper than he thought it would be. It was later than he normally would have been up had they still been in Orange County, but he was still kind of groggy. He noted Carolina’s quick movements as though to hide something and it piqued his curiosity slightly. He looked and saw the box of grapenuts. Ugh. Even if he was feeling like his old self, he had no interest in eating what was basically bark and acorns.
As Wash fixed himself a cup of coffee the dog padded over to the door and pawed at it. She whined a little and looked back at the two humans in the kitchenette. It was doggy potty time, apparently. Another yawn and Wash made his way through the living room to open the door and let the poor puppy outdoors to do her business. It was almost habit now, something easily fitted into a routine: get up, get coffee, let the dog out.
The smell of apples and cinnamon and the sound of something sizzling could be heard from the kitchen. Wash felt his stomach growl softly. Maybe his appetite was finally coming back. It was the first time since they’d gotten there that the idea of eating was actually appealing rather than a something he was made to do. He realized he’d been so out of it he didn’t even know what kind of provisions the two of them even had for breakfast. “What are you making?”
“French toast.” Carolina wiped her hands on a napkin before turning to look at Wash. She had caught a quick glimpse of him while sleeping, but now that he was awake it was easier for her to assess his condition. Green eyes noted the bit of color that had returned to his skin as well as a lessening of the dark circles beneath his eyes. Even yawning, he looked far more awake than she had seen in months.
Looking down, she nodded at his feet. “You should probably change the bandages on those.” Carolina had made sure that the first aid kit was overstocked with such things specifically for this trip. It had come in useful a few times already. She had hoped for the best and planned for the worst. So far, this trip had fallen somewhere between the two.
“Yeah, I will,” Wash promised with a glance down towards his feet. Taking care of one’s feet was paramount in the military, no matter which branch you were in. It was one of several practices Wash had taken with him when he’d been discharged. Well. mostly. He replaced his socks as often as possible, but he did have a habit of wearing his boots longer than he probably should. Constantly being neck deep in Orange County shenanigans had a way of wearing out footwear quicker than normal.
He retrieved the first aid kit from it’s spot in the middle of the coffee table and noted how much of its contents had already been used. It was still full, but not nearly as overstocked as it had been when they’d arrived. At least one of them had done their research and had come prepared.
First aid kit in hand, Wash limped his way to the bathroom to redress his feet and take a look at a few of the other wounds his torso and arms were sporting. The smell of warm apple cinnamon permeated the little cabin and Wash’s stomach started to ache a little in that familiar hollow kind of way. French toast actually sounded pretty fucking tasty. “Smells good,” he called to Carolina from the bathroom as he gingerly took the old bandages off his feet. “I haven’t had French toast in a long time.”
She had not made it in a long time. Definitely not since she had been a civilian. Her teacher would have been appalled. “Finally hungry, huh?” Carolina called back. With Wash taking care of his feet in the bathroom, she was free to pull things out of the cereal box again. There was not much left to take out except a few brightly colored birthday candles. They were probably too cheery for either of them, but they had been the only candles left at the grocery store when she had gone. She set up the candles on the cake before once again hiding the cake behind the cereal box.
A few minutes later there was a pawing at the screen door that was swiftly becoming familiar. Carolina eyed the bread sizzling in the pan before heading to let the dog back inside. She had never considered having a dog, or even living with one. There had been a few units overseas that employed dogs to sniff out explosives, but their missions rarely overlapped with them and even then not for very long. However, the canine’s presence had brought an element of comfort and companionship to the cabin that would otherwise have gone completely unnoticed.
“Need any help with the wrapping?” The normally stern woman had a suspiciously soft look on her face as she tossed small pieces of bacon to the dog as a reward for various tricks. It was obvious that the German Shepherd had gone through some sort of training before appearing at the cabin, but figuring out exactly what kind of training was a different story. Carolina looked back toward the hallway. Not that she doubted he could manage it himself, but maintaining tension could be frustrating when your body still felt stiff and sore.
“I could eat,” came the response from the bathroom. Hungry wasn’t quite the right description for the hollow feeling in his gut, but it was close enough.
He was seated sideways on the tub, with his foot up in front of him. Just leaning forward over his knee to get the bandages off was something of a chore and his back was letting him know just how stiff he really was. It took a couple of shifted positions before Wash could actually get at his feet. He hissed a grimace when he finally was able to unwrap them. Most of the wounds on his soles were superficial scrapes and abrasions, but there were a couple deeper scratches as a consequence of running over a sharp twig or rock. At least there hadn’t been any glass out there. “I got it,” he called back to Carolina. She’d done enough for him so far this week, the least he could do was take care of the wounds he’d given himself.
It took several more minutes than it normally would have under normal circumstances, but he was finally able to check the wounds, clean them and then wrap his feet again. The old bandages, speckled a little with blood, were thrown away. The new bandages weren’t near as tight as when Carolina had dressed his feet before, but it was good enough. Then Wash used the small mirror to take a look at the scratches on his arms and back. He looked as though he’d gone for a tumble through a briar patch. These scratches were mostly superficial as well that would start itching like crazy once they started to heal. Wash’s eyes fell on the various scars on his body. Some were faint, noticeable only to him, others were glaringly obvious, speaking volumes without details the life he’d lived.
It was another several moments before Wash came out of the bathroom and went back to his room to find a shirt. The dog met him in the hall again when he came out and returned to the kitchen.
By the time Wash returned to the kitchen, the table was set and there was a plate full of French toast sitting in front of one of the chairs. “How’d they look?” Carolina was leaning against the counter, sipping her coffee while she waited for him to return. There wasn’t much counter for her to sit on in the cabin. It was almost like it was forcing her to sit down at the table and at least try and be sociable.
Dog and Marine made a cozy picture and Carolina smirked over the rim of her cup. Domestic was a label she would not have thought to apply to either one of them, but this was certainly getting close. “I couldn’t find any syrup, but there’s plenty of jam, peanut butter, and whipped cream.” She had never underestimated York’s planning abilities, but every now and then the number of contingencies he would sneak in would surprise her. It had to be a contingency, right? Why else would they need a can of whipped cream out in the middle of nowhere?
Without further preamble, she sat down at the table to eat. There was juice in the fridge, but she had finally managed to get the antique coffee maker to brew a decent cup of black coffee and was not about to trade down.
“Whipped cream?” Wash raised a brow. He figured that was something York had snuck into the provisions along with the children’s board games. He chuckled faintly and shook his head. His stomach wasn’t quite ready for peanut butter, so jam would have to suffice. He took a seat at the table and started to eat. He ate mostly in silence, devouring the breakfast as though he hadn’t eaten in days and it would be days yet before he ate again.
However, he was only able to pack away a slice and a half before a familiar feeling of nausea set in to his guts. He picked at the remaining half a little. He hadn’t eaten a whole lot, but it had been more than he’d had in three days. While he was feeling a little nauseated, there was little threat of the breakfast coming up again. He looked across the table at Carolina apologetically. He didn’t want her to think her cooking was bad. The applesauce had actually been a great substitute for cinnamon. “It was really good,” he told her. “Thanks.”
“Good.” Carolina shrugged in return. She knew she was not the best cook, but nor was she a horrible one. Her strengths had always lied in mixing ready-made ingredients and improvisation as opposed to whipping up something from scratch. She had also not really expected him to eat all that much, considering he had managed to eat very little in the last few days, but she would take the small victories where she could find them.
Once her plate was empty, Carolina got up and picked up the dishes, motioning for Wash to stay where he was. “Hold on, there’s one more thing. Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to eat it all.” She gave him a knowing look to reassure him that she was not offended by his lack of appetite. The extra food could easily be reheated for lunch or fed to the dog (if she liked that sort of thing). She moved back to the box of Grape Nuts, hesitating before digging into her pocket for the zippo that had been part of her field kit for so many years. A quick flick of the wrist and it came alight in her hand, its flame catching the wicks of the glittery candles.
Singing was far too cheesy and Wash would probably have wondered if this was another hallucination if she tried. Instead, Carolina opted for a real smile and placed the small rectangular cake in front of him. “Happy Birthday, Wash.”
Wash stared at her blankly for a brief moment. Birthday? He did a quick mental calculation and sure enough, today was September 29th. How does one exactly forget their own birthday? Well, given the events of the week, it wasn’t entirely outrageous. Carolina had remembered, she’d even packed the MRE’s used to make the cake. Wash was touched. Not so much that she remembered - but that even after all the grief he’d given her, the things he’d said to her she had still thought to bring the MRE’s with the intention of making him a cake.
MRE’s weren’t exactly known to be wonderful, but the cake looked fantastic. Fond memories of the squad gathered around a squat table in a tent or some dive of a hotel presenting one of these cakes to whoever birthday it happened to be percolated up from where they’d been buried. Wash smiled at his sister. “Thanks, Carolina.”
“Hurry up and make a wish, Rookie.” The small smile on her face widened a bit and Carolina reached over to fondly ruffle her brother’s hair. “Otherwise you’re going to end up with a wax cake.” Despite everything that had happened over the past week, the two of them had a history that would take more than a handful of words to completely erase. Even ones that had stung as much as theirs.
They might not be able to return to the same relationship they had before their fight, but that was okay. Hell, Carolina figured it was probably for the best that they didn’t. Not if it meant that they could avoid having to do another trip like this one. They would probably never have a perfect sibling relationship, but that was okay. They weren’t perfect people. There was still a lot to talk about, but that could wait for a little bit. At least until they were done with breakfast.
Wash ducked his head reflexively from Carolina’s hand. He wasn’t quite quick enough to avoid it, and he may not have actually wanted to avoid it. He looked down at the cake and burning candles. Wash wasn’t really a person who made wishes. Even as a little kid he’d always drawn a blank whenever his grandmother had told him to. But he blew out the candles just the same. The sparkly candles looked as though they were something York had also given them and Wash half expected them to spark to life again because that would have been very York.
Fortunately, (or unfortunately, depending on one’s point of view), Carolina had been the one to purchase the candles, so the flames did not magically respawn. Not that she hadn’t considered obtaining some trick candles, but at the time the woman would not have bet that either of them would be in the mood for such a light hearted prank. York’s gifts had worked their miracles, however, and for once both of them were smiling. Maybe next year she’d get him an entire cake full of them to make up for it.
Carolina turned her chair to face him before sitting down once again. She didn’t bother to ask what he wished for, although that was mainly because she believed the most likely candidate was ‘to get out of here’, which was not on the agenda just yet. “So, birthday boy, we’ve got a cabin full of kid’s board games and a forest of fresh air to explore - or ignore, considering the state of your feet.” She reached a over to steal a bit of icing. “What do you want to do first?”
Hiking through the forest was out. Wash couldn’t get on socks, much less his boots and he wasn’t really up for walking over the forest floor in bare feet again. So another rousing afternoon full of board games was really their only other option.
Wash spent his 30th birthday playing his sister at Disney Guess Who, which he was kind of rubbish at, Clue Jir., which he actually won a few times, and Hi-Ho Cheerio, which he’d never played before and Carolina had to teach him. The dog had returned to the cabin and spent most of the morning lounging at the open front door, with her paws over the threshold, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. It was a peaceful little sight, as though the brother and sister had come up to the cabin for an actual vacation. It was unfortunate it was their last full day at the cabin. Tomorrow it was back to the real world.
Day Seven It had been five days since Carolina had last gone on a morning run. had woken with the itch to run. To push herself until the world melted away around her. There were few things that could clear her mind as well as a good sprint. Wash’s feet were still a mess and considering it was their last day and the two of them would be returning home in a few hours, she figured it would be okay to run a few sprints, so long as she kept the cabin in sight. The dog came out with her, taking up a post at the top of the stairs to watch.
Some time later Carolina jogged back up the stairs, feeling the mix of physical exhaustion and endorphins that came from a good workout. She waved to Wash as she entered, checking to make sure that he was good before heading to the shower. It felt good to wash off the sweat and grime of the last few days, even if she had to relocate a three spiders out the small window in order to do so.
The sun was barely peeking over the mountains when she returned to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee and start breakfast, wet hair in a low pony tail. She used what was left of their supplies, saving part of the food for the ride home so that they would not have to stop. While she was no longer worried that Wash would make a run for it while they were stuck in a drive-thru line, she had no desire to delay their return any longer than necessary.
Carolina watched Wash pick at his food for a bit, debating. Eventually, she nodded to herself and reached into her pocket to pull out a coin. The brightly colored medallion rolled across the top of her fingers, an almost idle practice that belied the hours she had practiced the move as a child. Green eyes watched it slip back and forth, and when she spoke her tone was more curious than anything else. “Did I ever tell you about the time I punched a Colonel?”
Wash had been in no condition to run that morning, even though watching Carolina do so made him want to join her. It was part of his routine and he was anxious to get back to that, to re-establish what was normal in his life. His nerves were still wound as tight as piano strings, anxiety filling his chest and guts and dumping in a type of energy he couldn’t get rid of by just standing in the doorway. Running had always been a way for him to keep moving, as though he were actually running from something. It was only now that he realized that had been exactly what he had been doing. An attempt made in vain.
After a few moments and a cigarette, Wash had retreated into the cabin with his mug of coffee. He still needed to do something. In a few hours they’d be back on the road, so starting to pack up their stuff seemed like a good way to use that energy. They hadn’t unpacked much, aside from York’s games, their bedrolls and food supplies, so by the time Carolina had finished her run and then her shower, they were basically ready to go.
He ate a little more at breakfast than he had the previous morning, although it wasn’t nearly a full meal. Really just enough to get that gnawing empty feeling in his belly to leave him alone. He’d been quite as they ate, enjoying the peace of the cabin in the woods as much as he could before the two of them returned to the commotion and confusion of Orange County. His eyes kept wandering towards the dog and wondering what was going to happen to her. It didn’t feel right to leave her at the cabin. Someone had done that once already, whether it had been on purpose or otherwise. Leaving her wasn’t fair. Wash racked his mind trying to come up with a way to convince Carolina to take her with them.
Carolina broke into his thoughts with her question and took him totally off his guard. His brows furrowed together. The words she said were serious, but the tone she said them in, she may as well have asked him about the weather.
“You...punched a colonel?” He asked. He didn’t remember any such confrontations while he’d been with the squad. “Why?”
“I didn’t like what he had to say.” Carolina gave Wash a half-smirk before her gaze returned to the coin. She had been due to be promoted that week, but the paperwork had still been pending when they had started those fateful training exercises in Nevada. Her superior officer had already gotten her this coin to commemorate the event; after all, it was inevitable. Captain Church had had an immaculate military record and most thought she would be a General long before her 20th anniversary came around.
“There was a training accident and one of my men ended up in the hospital.” Carolina explained as if Wash had not been the squadmate in question. As if he were simply her brother, being told an amusing war story. “My XO and I took turns watching over him and keeping the squad in check. We originally scheduled to deploy soon, but I managed to push it out to give him time to recover. After a month, though, the brass started to lose patience and tried to assign a new guy to our squad. I lost the paperwork. Twice.”
She took a drink of her coffee, glancing up at Wash as if to gauge his reaction to her words. “Eventually, Colonel Wright sought me out with the papers at the hospital. When I refused to sign them immediately, he got angry and said a few choice words about the capabilities of my injured squadmate. I- well, I saw red. Fortunately, my XO caught my arm before it could do much more than twitch. Unfortunately, Wright saw the movement and tried to call me on it.” Carolina took a deep breath, one eyebrow raising a bit in admission. “I might not have cared about what he said about me, but I have a feeling that it was sometime around then that my XO’s grip loosened around my arm. So when Wright got back around to berating my squad… well,” her lips twitched upward in memory. It had felt damn good to punch that son of a bitch. No one insulted her squad and got away with it. “He went down like a light.”
Of course Wash knew who the injured squadmate was, but he continued to listen in silence as if he didn’t. This was the first time he’d heard about what had happened in his hospital room while he’d been in a coma. He’d had no idea that either Carolina or York had ever been there with him. Neither the doctors, nor the nurses had given him any inclination. In fact, when he’d asked about where his squad was all he’d ever gotten was “they aren’t here” and when he pressed to find out where they were and why, he’d received only vague answers, if any at all.
The commander who had given him his discharge papers had been somewhat more helpful. He at least had told Wash that he no longer had the clearance to know his squad’s location or what their new mission was. He told Wash in what could have been considered a sympathetic tone, looking back now, that all he needed to worry about was recovering and returning home to his family. Wash couldn’t tell the commander that he didn’t have a family worth returning to or that his family were now in places unknown. Once he reached the V.A. hospital in Los Angeles, there were no more answers to give in response his questions and Wash had stopped asking them.
He wished he hadn’t.
He wished someone had told him that his commanding officers had been at his side, that one of them had defended him and had fought - if in vain - to stay with him. She shouldn’t have. Anyone who looked at him in that bed - at his head - would have known that Gunnery Sergeant David Barrow’s career with the military was over. A broken tool that needed to be put away and replaced. It wasn’t worth ruining anyone else's career in attempting to hang on to him. He had no idea if knowing that York and Carolina had been there would have changed any of the feelings of abandonment and loneliness that had followed in the months after, or if knowing would have stopped him from ultimately going down the path he had chosen. And maybe...for once...it didn’t matter. He knew now and he was glad he did.
As if he was simply her little brother listening to one of her crazy military stories, he grinned a little grin at her. “That was a fucking crazy thing to do. You’re lucky you weren’t court martialed.”
“I nearly was.” Carolina conceded, unable to stop the smirk that appeared at the memory. “Fortunately, I had an XO whose ears were bigger than his mouth, if you can believe that. Between a bit of intel and a lot of negotiations I was not supposed to know about, Wright eventually told his staff that he had slipped on the hospital tiles and given himself the shiner.”
Carolina was quiet for a moment before she continued. “We paid for it later, though. I may not have been court martialed, but the Colonel put a stop to all promotions and reclassified our mission as deep cover.” Which meant no communication in either direction and no one was allowed to know where they had gone. A few months later, after Andersmith had died and York had left her, it was hard to know if she would’ve done Wash any good if she had managed to find him. She’d heard he’d been discharged, but that was as far as the trail went. For all she knew, he had returned back to Seattle and that hell of a family he had never talked about.
“What I did was stupid, selfish, and it ended up hurting the people I was trying to defend. I didn’t want to have to live with the memory of doing nothing, but in hindsight, maybe there might have been other ways to go about it.” The coin was nestled into her palm as she offered her hand to him to shake. “What you did to yourself was stupid, selfish, and you ended up hurting others on top of yourself because of it. But, you also came here to do something about it. You didn’t try to run away from what you needed to do to get better. You earned this a hell of a lot more than I did.” Carolina’s eyes softened into a real smile. “I’m proud of you, David.”
The grin had fled Wash’s face, leaving a sort of blank look. Blank, but not devoid of emotion. Neither he nor Carolina were the kind of people to wear their hearts on their sleeves. A Church thing maybe. But if you knew just where to look and what to look for. A quirk of a brow, a pull at a corner of the mouth, or the way their eyes hardened, soften or, at times, even moistened. Especially the eyes. People like York and Gale, those who knew them best, could tell exactly what was going on, just by looking. There was an odd mix of emotion in Wash’s grey eyes now. Pain, but relief as well. And something else Wash couldn’t even describe.
Those eyes flickered down towards her offered hand. Hearing her call him David, even now, was...well, weird wasn’t really the right word. Neither was odd or unsettling. Just...strange. Strange and meaningful somehow. Wash lacked the words to be able to explain it. Or how it made him feel to hear it.
He knew the coin was in Carolina’s palm when he reached out to take Carolina’s offered hand. He could feel it press into his palm. It was foreign and warm. It felt heavy with the importance the Marines had placed on it. Heavy with the importance Carolina had put on it. Wash felt funny accepting it. Overcoming an addiction he had allowed himself to drown in wasn’t what he’d call an accomplishment and yet...he did feel accomplished. He just wished he had the words to say so.
Carolina felt like there was a weight that lifted from her as the coin passed over to his hand. She had not realized how much meaning she had placed on the coin until it was gone. Good. One less thing to fuel either one’s self-blaming nature. In time, Wash might seek out additional help and end up with an entirely different kind of coin, but until then, she hoped that this one would help keep him off of any slippery slopes he’d encounter in the near future.
Standing, the former Captain ruffled Wash’s hair, breaking the serious mood. She found it amusing how he’d try to duck out of it even though she suspected that he didn’t mind it at all. If she were more of a hugging person - like York, for example - this would probably be the right time for it. Maybe one day. “But if you want more stories, Gunney, you’re going to have to do the dishes.”
The hair ruffling was as good as a hug for Wash. He smiled a little, again making a show of trying to duck her hand, but letting her ruffle his hair anyway. “Yeah, alright, Boss,” he chuckled faintly. “I’m on it.” He got to his feet and cleared the table of their breakfast dishes, taking them over to the sink for a quick cleaning.
“We’re all packed up,” he said to Carolina over his shoulder. He noticed the dog was still in the living room. She was watching the brother and sister with a pair of the saddest looking puppy-dog eyes Wash had ever seen. She knew they were getting ready to leave. Wash frowned and looked over at his sister. “What are we going to do about the dog?” He asked. “We can’t leave her here.”
Carolina returned from the bedroom with her bag, stacking it by the door with the other boxes. She looked at both the dog and then at Wash. From where she was standing, they were both looking at her with puppy eyes. “What makes you think the dog wants to leave? Maybe this is her home.” She walked over to the couch where her other bag was sitting. At least she had not had to unpack much from that particular bag.
They didn’t need another pet. Besides, Wash already had a cat. The dog had been pretty calm this week, but she had no idea how it would do around another animal. True, the dog had been extremely helpful watching over Wash this week. Also true, it had been...nice...playing with the girl while he had been passed out for hours on end. Carolina was pretty sure that the dog had been a service dog of some sort at one point or another, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t interested in the challenge of training a proper service and guard dog, but- No. She frowned at dog and brother alike. “You’re not seriously thinking about taking her with us.”
This wasn’t going to be an easy sell, that was plainly clear. “Actually, yeah...I am.” He admitted. “Think about it, Carolina. There were no dog stuff when we got here. No food, no collars, no toys. The cabin was locked and she was sleeping on the porch. We have to lock this place up again when we leave. What are we going to do, lock her in? And if we lock her out, where is she going to go? It gets cold here at night, she won’t survive a winter up here on her own. Boss, it’s obvious she’s not a stray. After she stuck by us this week, the least we can do is take her back with us. Find her a home?”
“I think you’re underestimating her ability to survive out here. She obviously was able to hunt for herself before we came along.” Carolina’s frown deepened. Granted, she had heard the dog’s story from Kanan earlier, but she did not think it was the best story to repeat to her brother. After all, it was not exactly good form to tell a recovering veteran that the last occupant of their cabin had not only also been a veteran, but that he had given up the fight entirely. Definitely not the most motivational story for a recovering addict with PTSD.
Crossing her arms, Carolina arched an eyebrow at the dog. As if on cue, the dog padded over and sat down in front of the older human, sad brown eyes still begging. Refusing to admit she was giving in, Carolina looked back at Wash. “You do realize you have a cat, right? I highly doubt Suda is going to take well to having a dog in the apartment, regardless of how short a time she’s there.”
“Suda was a stray too,” Wash pointed out. “And she invited herself into my apartment. For all I know wherever she came from before had other animals. She’ll keep Suda company when we’re not there.” He looked down at the dog sitting in front of Carolina. “She shouldn’t have to hunt. Someone dumped her here and…it just doesn’t feel right for us to leave her here either.”
Carolina was not convinced that Suda would be very pleased with a new addition to their little family. She was also very much avoiding looking at the dog because she knew one more look at those eyes and she’d probably give in. “You really want to take her with us, don’t you?”
Wash nodded. The German Shepherd had taken care of him over the past week. He had fleeting memories of a cold nose and soft fur during a time of confusion and darkness. His squad hadn’t had a choice leaving him behind, but they had a choice about the dog. “Yeah. I do, Boss.”
With a sigh, Carolina finally looked down at the dog. Yep. Those eyes had definitely worn her down over the last week. She had been planning to call someone to get the dog, but taking her with them would be faster. Fine. “If she’s going to come home with us, she’s going to need a name.”
Wash felt a weight he hadn’t been aware of lift off his shoulders. He smiled at Carolina thankfully. “Yeah, of course. A name...Uhm.” He looked down at the dog. Naming her would form an even larger attachment between them, but he had a suspicion that was maybe the point, even if Carolina hadn’t yet gotten to the point of admitting it. “Uhh...how about Samus?”
“Samus?” Carolina gave Wash a skeptical look. Samus sounded far too much like a man’s name. Looking down, the dog seemed to be unphased as well. “She doesn’t look like a Samus.” She pursed her lips, thinking. Maybe something to do with her breed? The dog was a German Shepherd. German...German…Germain. “What about Sophie?” The dog tilted her head curiously in response. Huh. “Sophie?” The dog’s head tilted the other direction. Carolina looked up at Wash, not quite able to hide how pleased she was at the pun. “I think she likes it.”
Wash frowned. “What? She totally is a Samus. Samus is one of the most beloved video game icons of the century…” He trailed when the dog seemed to react to the name Carolina had picked. “Sophie?” He repeated, tilting his head a little as well. He hated to admit it, but the name did seem to fit the dog better. “Yeah, I guess she does look more like a Sophie. What do you think, girl? You like Sophie?”
The dog got to her feet, tail wagging happily. Apparently she did like the name. Wash smiled and crouched down to the dog’s height. “Hey, Sophie. Good girl. You wanna go for a ride? You wanna go for a ride?”
The dog - Sophie - barked and started dancing in front of them happily. She turned towards Wash and licked his face. The former marine laughed and ruffled her fur. He looked up at his C.O., grinning himself. “Yeah, I think she likes it.” He looked back at the dog, that grin never wavering. “Don’t worry, girl. We’ll find you a good home.”