Who: Wash; Featuring Dan Smith, Kanan Jarrus and Sophie the German Shepherd When: Today What: Wash is given the worst news of his life and refuses to believe it Where: Wash’s apartment; Later Chateau Katou Ratings/Warnings: Believed PC death; language Status: Complete narrative
With Carolina out on a training assignment, Wash’s usual routine was slightly altered. His morning runs were done not with his sister, but with her dog. Sophie loved their morning runs. If, God forbid, Wash overslept even by a few measly minutes, Sophie would be in his room, nudging him with her cold doggy-nose and if she could somehow find a way to nudge an errant foot from under the covers, all the better. Sometimes Suda was with her, perched on Wash’s bedside table meowing to be fed. If (again God forbid) Wash was being particularly stubborn about getting up at 0500, he was roused rather rudely by a 100 pound German Shepherd jumping on him and another 10 pound tabby-cat on his face.
Who needs an alarm clock when you have pets?
This particular morning, though, Sophie was acting strangely. She was being more insistent than usual that Wash get up and instead of waiting until 0500, she was in his room at the ripe hour of 0300. She paced around his bed, whining anxiously and sticking her nose under the comforter and against Wash’s bare leg. This unusual behavior got Wash up and out of bed pretty quickly to check to make sure the dog was alright. So far as he could tell she was fine. She didn’t seem to be in any pain, she wasn’t favoring any leg or moving as though she was uncomfortable. There was nothing stuck in her paws or on her face. Wash then cautiously checked the apartment. It was more likely that Sophie would have been growling and barking if an intruder had gained access to their home, but Wash armed himself with his sidearm anyway as he checked and cleared each of the rooms. Everything was fine. The front door was still closed and securely locked. Nothing had been moved, nothing was out of place. Carolina’s cache of weapons in what had once been the hall linen closet was secured untouched.
Sophie followed Wash closely from room to room, always staying just at his side. Suda watched them both with half-open eyes from her usual spot on the back of the couch. There was no way she was getting up at this ungodly hour no matter how much of a ruckus the dog decided to make.
Satisfied that the apartment hadn’t been broken into, Wash turned his attention to the Network. It was about the right time for the powers that be in the County to decide that it’s residents needed to have their lives disrupted again. He had glanced outside during his walk-through and everything had seemed fine, but Orange County was a big place. Anything could happen anywhere at any time.
But nothing was happening. There were a few posts regarding Dream updates and the usual chatter regarding general observations about life. Normal social media stuff. No one made any announcement that an event or persons or invasion from their Dreams had decided to make themselves home in the waking world. By all accounts it was shaping up to be just another peaceful day in beautiful southern California.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Soph,” Wash commented as he looked up from his laptop. As soon as he did, though, he had his answer.
Instead of sitting on the floor next to his seat on the couch, the German Shepard was seated in front of the door to Carolina’s bedroom. Wash had left the door open when he’d cleared the apartment and Sophie was staring into it and whining pathetically.
Carolina had shipped out last week for her latest assignment: a simple routine training mission to test her team of rookies. It wasn’t the first one she’d been on. Hell, it wasn’t even the first mission she’d been on since being called back. Still, though, not knowing exactly where she was or what she was doing made Wash uneasy. Just as anything could happen at any time within the OC, it was Wash’s experience that there was no such thing as a “routine training mission.” Clearly their loyal four-legged companion thought so too.
Wash sighed and got up from the couch to join Sophie by the door to the empty bedroom. He crouched down in front of her. “You miss her, don’t you?” He asked and reached out to scratch her ears. “I do too. She’ll be home soon, though. I promise.”
Sophie gave another soft pitiful whine, but licked at Wash’s face as if saying thank you for the reassurance.
It still wasn’t 0500, but neither Wash nor Sophie were going to be getting anymore sleep. So Wash decided they would take their morning run early. He’d take their longer route usually reserved for the weekends. Hopefully that would be exactly what the two of them needed to get their minds off of Carolina’s noticeable absence.
It wasn’t.
Sophie, who usually loved their morning runs, simply didn’t have the heart for it. She kept tugging on the leash, trying to pull Wash back in the direction of the apartment. Wash attempted to keep her on course for the duration of their run, but the more he tried, the more she resisted. It wasn’t like her. She had been trained to stay right by his side, to be alert, to be cognizant of their surroundings, to stand point whenever he stopped. Today she was having none of that and the longer Wash attempted to keep her out, the more resistant she became.
To be fair, Wash’s heart wasn’t in their usual run either. His admonishments, attempts to keep Sophie on track, were mostly hollow and unconvincing. He was just going through the motions without putting any thought, effort or feeling behind them. He could usually keep his mind clear on a run. In fact, as much as he hated getting up early to run their usual route, Wash did so only because it helped him clear his mind, focus, get ready for the day. But this morning it kept wandering. Wondering where his sister was, what she was doing. Was she okay? He didn’t know. He had no way of knowing. There was a saying: “once a marine, always a marine.” But it was mostly for show and only went so far. Even though Carolina had gotten him on base, introduced him to her superior officer, gotten him to play poker with the man, if Wash went to him and asked where Carolina was, he’d get nothing. Routine mission or not, he just didn’t have the clearance. He was a civilian. And as a civilian, he didn’t need to know.
The ex-marine and the dog had only been out for 45 minutes before Wash stopped in the middle of the jogging path. Sophie stopped as well and looked up at him, her sad puppy-dog eyes spoke volumes. Anyone who ever tells you dogs don’t have souls has obviously never owned one.
“You don’t want to be out here anymore than I do, do you?” He asked and got a soft whine in response. “That’s what I thought. Alright. Let’s go home.”
Sophie seemed relieved when Wash altered their path back in the direction of the apartment, but wash didn’t share in any of that relief. All of this not knowing was going to drive him crazy. He needed a distraction. Maybe he’d head into work early, get caught up on some of that damn paperwork he’d been letting pile up on his desk. Maybe he’d take Sophie with him. It didn’t feel right leaving the poor dog alone at home to stare at Carolina’s door and long for her human’s return. Besides, Wash felt as though he needed the dog with him. They could comfort each other. Anyone who had a problem with it could go straight to hell.
Wash thought maybe he’d call Anna that morning on his way in. She had a way of making things that to him seemed dire and bleak seem not quite as bad. She had a way of getting his obsessive mind to relax and let go. She was busy promoting her movie, Wash understood that, but maybe she could spend the night.
However, when Wash got off the elevator at his floor and rounded the corner to see Dan Smith standing outside his door, all thoughts about work and Anna immediately left.
Now it is no secret that Dan Smith was not Wash’s favorite person. Mostly because Dan was married to his sister. Oh, Wash understood that it had been Carolina who had decided not to divorce Smith so that her benefits, should something happen to her, not be given to their father. Wash wasn’t sure he really understood her reasoning there, but that was between her and Dr. Church and was none of Wash’s business. And he supposed Smith was a good enough sport to agree to the arrangement, not that it really impacted the other man’s life at all.
Though, if anyone asked Wash’s opinion on the matter, Smith was a horrible match for Carolina and would not have been his choice for her (not that he had or should have a say in the matter). Wash thought Kanan was a much better choice and he’d been pleased to find out that Carolina was actually in love with him. For some reason, though, that hadn’t changed the status of her current marriage any. Wash had asked her about it once and the response he got was cryptic at best: “I’ll think about it when the person I’m with isn’t subject to an FBI background check.”
Whatever that meant.
Also, if anyone asked (and no one had), Wash had never been entirely convinced that Smith could be trusted to do what Carolina asked in regards to her benefits. They didn’t know Smith. He was literally someone she had run into in Vegas. He was a Dreamer, but when had that become the sole reason to trust someone with something this important?
Apparently Wash had underestimated the bar owner. There was only one reason why Dan Smith would be here before the sun was even up, and Wash was having none of it.
“What are you doing here, Smith?” Wash demanded as he came up the hall with Sophie.
The other man turned towards him and the first thing Wash took note of was not the unnatural somber look on Smith’s face, but the folded up flag he was holding. Instantly Wash’s breath stopped in his chest and his heart turned to ice. He couldn’t speak.
“I got a visit this mornin’ at the bar,” Smith explained as if Wash had actually questioned him. “An officer from the base….”
Wash’s hand tightened around Sophie’s leash.
“…’E said Carolina’s ship went down in the gulf ten miles off the coast o’ Sudan…”
What? No. No, that’s not right…
“The officer didnnea give me many details,” Smith went on apologetically, as if he were the officer from the base sent to deliver the bad news. “All ‘e said was that there weren’t any survivors. Nothin’ left.”
Wash shook his head. That wasn’t right. The Sudan?! What the hell kind of training mission would take place in the Sudan?!
Once a Marine…
Wash new it was no training mission they had sent Carolina on with her band of rookies. They’d been given an actual mission. A mission that had gone tits up. Idiots! Why did they send a group of untrained, untested kids to the goddamn middle east?!
Of course Wash knew the reason. He’d been untrained and untested once, plopped with his squad right in the middle of a war zone. He’d been trained. He’d been drilled. But all that couldn’t prepare you for what it was really like.
Smith was still talking, Wash caught something about bringing him the flag they’d hung at half-mast yesterday at the base in memorial, but Wash wasn’t listening. Instead he brushed by Smith as if he wasn’t even there and let himself into his apartment. Once inside he let Sophie off her leash and went straight to his laptop.
There was no way a group of fucking pirates had gotten the better of Carolina, the best of the goddamn fucking best. She had survived countless missions, been caught behind enemy lines, had orders that were barely goals, had Dreamed of being thrown off a cliff and still lived to tell the tale of each and every one.
He was at his laptop now, booting up the program Carolina had installed when she had told him she had slipped a GPS tracker into his boot. Cute, sis. At the time neither one of them had ever suspected that one day Wash would be using this exact same program to track his sister’s whereabouts. Lost at sea. Fuck that. He’d find her. Find her and bring her home if it was the last thing he did.
“Wash?”
Wash’s head snapped up from the laptop to see Smith standing just inside his living room. He was looking at him strangely. It took Wash a full second to realize the look was one of concern. Wash swore at himself for not locking the door behind him. What more could Smith possibly want?
“I promised yer sister that ye’d get’er benefits,” Smith said. “And I want ye t’ know I’m gonna keep that promise.”
Wash narrowed his eyes. His sister was stranded somewhere out in the middle of nowhere and this guy was worried about benefits?!
“Get out.”
The cold edge under Wash’s voice made Smith blink and take an unconscious step back. “Wash,” he started again, but the ex-marine didn’t give him the chance to finish.
“I don’t want to listen to you talk about any benefits!” Wash snapped at him, in that same dangerous tone. “So if that’s all you have, leave.”
Smith hesitated a moment as if debating whether or not it was a good idea to leave an obviously grieving man alone in his denial. Finally he sighed and shook his head. “Alright,” he relented. “I’ll leave this ‘ere, then.” He stepped forward and set the flag he had been holding on the coffee table and then stepped back. Wash didn’t even look at it. Grey eyes narrowed in warning. He had no problems with physically removing Smith from the apartment if he had to.
Smith seemed to sense that as well. He said nothing else before leaving the apartment. Once he was gone, Wash’s attention went back to the computer.
Locating….Locating….Locating…
Wash’s leg bounced. It seemed like an eternity, but finally he was rewarded with a ping. The tracker had located Carolina – or at least her dog tags – and provided the coordinates. A quick check and Wash found that they weren’t somewhere in the middle of the Gulf, but in the middle of an isolated area a few miles inland that was supposed to be uninhabited.
“Yeah. Sure it is.” Wash muttered under his breath. A moment later and he’d brought up the coordinates on a map using satellite images and wouldn’t you know it! Right there were some structures where none were supposed to be. That meant one of two things: either Carolina somehow miraculously made it to shore and had been rescued by one of the dozens of nomadic tribes in the area or she had been captured by these so-called pirates (who Wash suspected to be some kind of splinter cell) and this was their base. Given that the structures were surrounded by what appeared to be a hodge-podge of military vehicles, the latter seemed the most likely.
Wash knew what he had to do. He knew it was a terrible idea. He knew this information should be given directly to Carolina’s superiors so they could handle a rescue. But he also knew – feared – that by the time the military had their needed confirmation and was able to mobilize, it would be too late.
Wash was quicker. He could get in faster. Thus Wash’s idea. Wash’s terrible awesome idea. Carolina would surely kill him, but he didn’t care. Once she was home safe and sound, she could yell and holler and flip him on the mats until she was satisfied.
That morning Wash made two phone calls. The first was to York. He knew the former XO would be just as determined as he was to find Carolina and bring her home. He wasn’t disappointed. The second was to Commander Jane Shepard of the Agency. He and York were going to need all the help Shepard would be willing to provide.
The next several hours were spent planning this impromptu rescue mission. The end plan wasn’t ideal, but Wash was confident in its success, especially when it came to light that a certain sniper both he and York knew was still stationed in the area. They were scheduled to leave first thing in the morning.
Wash had one thing he needed to do first.
That evening he was at the house Kanan shared with Katou delivering the news that the woman Kanan loved had gone MIA.
“But I know where she is,” Wash added quickly hoping to soften at least a little bit of the blow. “And I’m bringing her home.”
He was somewhat thankful that Kanan’s aviators hid his eyes from view. Wash wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle the grief or the hurt that would soon follow. To his credit Kanan handled the news a lot better than Wash had. Instead of choosing to focus on the fact that Carolina was missing, he focused on the last half of Wash’s statement.
“When? How?”
“We leave tomorrow,” Wash said. “I can’t give you any more details,” mostly because many of those details Wash had elected to not know himself for very good reasons that he also could not get into. “But if everything goes the way it should, we’ll be back this time next week.”
Kanan frowned. “Alright. We leave tomorrow”
Wash shook his head. “No, Kanan.”
“What?” the Jedi demanded, “Why not? I can help.”
It wasn’t as if Wash thought Kanan couldn’t help. He knew that he could, but he was already bending a whole mess of rules. Allowing Kanan to go with them would break a dozen of them at least. Not to mention running a higher risk Wash wasn’t willing to accept. “No.” He stated firmly. “You can’t.”
“Bull. Shit.” Kanan growled at him. In the time Wash had known the other man, he had never once seen him truly angry and he regretted that now he would be forced to have that chance. “Give me one good reason why.”
“You’re not a marine, Kanan,” Wash answered quickly and firmly with the vain hope that would be enough of a reason.
Of course it wasn’t. “You’re not a marine either, Wash.” Kanan countered hotly. “Not anymore.”
If Kanan meant for the statement to hurt, he’d succeeded. Wash swallowed hard and was grateful Kanan couldn’t see the look on his face. “No.” He admitted. “I’m not. But I was. I’ve been to a war zone. I’ve done missions like this before. I know what I’m doing. You don’t. You’ve had no training. No military experience – and no, the Dreams don’t fucking count here. I’ve seen you in action, and I won’t deny that you are good. Better than good. But when the hammer comes down this is a military operation. And you are a civilian. A blind civilian. Even if I wanted to, if I brought you within a mile of this operation, the entire thing would be scrapped. If you love Carolina, then you’ll stay here.”
You could have heard a pin drop in the middle of the living room.
Even with the aviators hiding his eyes, Wash could see the myriad of emotions play across Kanan’s face: Anger, grief, helplessness and finally desperation. Each one twisted in Wash’s gut, but he held strong.
“I have to do something,” Kanan pleaded after another moment. “I can’t sit here and wait! I can’t sit here and not know if she’s alive or dead!”
“She’s not going to die,” Wash vowed. “I told you I’m bringing her back and that’s what I’m going to do.”
“You don’t know that!”
But Wash did know that. He had to know it. He had to believe it. He had no other choice.
“You have to trust me, Kanan.”
“I don’t have much of a choice,” Kanan said softly. Then he looked in Wash’s direction and god damn if it didn’t seem as though those dead eyes – hidden away behind dark sunglasses – looked directly at him. “Bring her home. Bring her home alive, Wash.”
There was a threat left unsaid in that order. Wash heard it clearly: If you don’t, don’t come back at all.