Agent Washington (completelysane) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-09-19 19:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, agent washington, gale hawthorne |
Who: Wash and Gale
What: Gale makes Wash confront his drinking problem
When: This evening, shortly after this fight
Where: Starting outside a bar to Gale's house
Rating/Warnings: Medium to high; high emotions and alcohol abuse
Status: Complete!
The evening had just gone from bad to worse and Wash was angrier and drunker than he had been when he’d stumbled out of Stefan’s car and up to his apartment. The last thing he had needed was Carolina coming at him, throwing accusations as if she had any idea what was going on in his head. She had been the one to leave. She was always the one who had left, in the Dreams in reality - it was the same thing over and over. What the hell did she think was going to happen to him? Whisky flowing through his system had loosened his tongue and with Epsilon practically screaming at him he’d unleashed on Carolina everything he had kept buried inside. Some of the things he’d said, he knew he’d had no right to say and he wasn’t feeling any better for saying them.
Carolina had stormed out of the apartment and Wash had followed suit shortly after. He had intended to go to the bar closest to their apartment and drink himself into oblivion. However, once inside, the bartender had told him he’d already had enough and showed him out. Now Wash was standing on the sidewalk, phone in hand, aimless and now more depressed than he was angry. He didn’t want to go back to the apartment in case Carolina returned with someone for back up. Probably Kanan. Kanan was the last person Wash wanted to hear Carolina’s words reverberate from. Or even worse: York.
With Epsilon still whispering, Wash texted Gale, asking him to come and get him.
Going to pick up an angry drunkard who happened to be Gale’s best man, his best friend - well, it didn’t seem that surprising of a request. Especially since he knew Wash tended to turn to alcohol when he couldn’t cope with something, when he needed Epsilon to stop, or even when he didn’t even really need to drink at all - an innocent beer here or there, a shot or two of something strong, it all added up. He also knew that Wash was an alcoholic, and he’d be seriously grateful to Carolina for saying something - her brother’s other friends seemed to just like to enable him. Honestly, they must be wearing blinders or fucking oblivious about he very clearly had a problem.
Gale was neither, actually, and he wasn’t going to coddle Wash over this - the time for that was done. He’d mentioned already that he thought it’d be a good idea if Wash cut back on the alcohol, he’d voiced his concerns, but now it was apparent that those concerns hadn’t been heeded. Grabbing his keys and his phone, he texted Leliana and told her that he was going to meet up with Wash (in case she came home and found him gone, though she was at Cindy’s and he didn’t expect her back early) but didn’t give the details. A few minutes later he’d pulled up in front of the bar Wash just got kicked out of.
Click, the doors were unlocked and he exited, going around to open the passenger side and help the drunk marine into the car. “Leliana’s out with a friend if you want to come back to the house,” he offered, since he doubted Wash wanted to return to his apartment anyway.
Wash had been leaning against a lamp post when Gale had pulled up, just kind of staring at his phone and going over the fight with Carolina in his head, all the terrible things he’d said to her, hurled at her as though they’d been grenades. He’d taken out both his aggression and his hurt on her. He knew she wasn’t responsible for the abuse he’d suffered, that she’d had no control over their Dreams or what orders the marines handed down. She had just been an easy target for him to take out years of pent up anger. He should apologize, but he wasn’t sure that an apology would make up for the things he’d said. The things he had meant. He wasn’t sure if he’d forgive him if he was in her position.
Wash looked up when he heard the click of the doors to Gale’s car unlocking. He blinked blearily at his friend as he came around the car to pull him off the lamp post towards the car. Wash wasn’t interested in going back to Gale’s house, not at that moment. All he wanted was to drown in whatever bottle he could get his hands on and make all of this just go away.
As Gale helped him into the car, Wash shook his head. “There’s ‘nother bar,” he mumbled making a vague gesture up the street. “Ahm not done yet. ‘Ave a drink with me, Gale.”
“No, no more bars. You are done,” Gale said firmly, and as soon as Wash was in the car and buckled up, he pressed the gas - hard. Deliberately hard, taking off for the highway he’d just gotten off at, following the signs to get back on. And he locked the doors - the front passenger side didn’t have child safety locks, but unlocking in the correct order would probably take more hand-eye coordination than Wash was capable of right now anyway.
So they weren’t going to grab a beer, was the point. They were going to go back to Gale’s place, Wash would drink an ocean of water, and then Gale would sit with him when he fell asleep - to make sure he didn’t stop breathing or choke on his own vomit. That was the plan.
Gale was also going to say what he felt, and if it didn’t register he was going to keep saying it. Over and over, until Wash finally woke the fuck up. “You’re gonna kill yourself one day, you have to stop this,” he insisted, facing the road. “Is that what you really want? To go out like that - a drunk - after everything you’ve been through and survived?”
Wash had barely gotten his seatbelt fastened across his lap when Gale hit the gas pedal causing him to jostle a little in the seat. He reached for the door handle to steady himself in time to see and hear the locks click on. Okay...clearly Gale didn’t want to go get a drink. Fine. Whatever. It wasn’t as though Wash had any other place to go. His van was back at Stefan’s and the idea of hoofing it back there to sleep this off wasn’t appealing. Neither was actually spending the night in his van. It wouldn’t have been the first time, but Gale’s couch surrounded by Leliana’s decorating was a much better option.
He sat in the passenger seat rubbing at his face. He groaned into his palms at Gale’s words. The words stung and wasn’t what Wash wanted to hear. Was he serious with this shit? “You’re gonna start in on me, too?” He demanded, his voice rising in pitch. “I jus’ got this fuckin’ shit from Carolina. I don’ need it from you too, awright? I know what’m doin’.”
Well, if Wash got this shit from Carolina, then it was probably deserved - one look at bleary eyes and hearing the slurred speech would be enough to confirm that. “You don’t know what you’re doing, and you don’t see how far you’ve spiraled - you don’t see that you have a lot to lose, Wash. And if you don’t get help you will lose everything. I can’t - “ Knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, turning white.
The thought of something happening to his best friend was a pain within him, a revival of a memory - the pain of emptiness, of being alone, a deep wound. A reminder that he too had once fallen so far that he couldn’t be saved (at least not in the eyes of the girl he’d loved), that he’d lost everything. Why would Gale want that to happen again - to either of them?
“I can’t lose you. This - this is fucking scary, Wash, okay? It’s probably scary for Carolina too. You’re basically her only family.”
Wash stared at him, eyes half lidded and mouth slightly open. “Lose me?” He repeated slowly followed by an equally as slow blink as if he didn’t understand the words. Was that why Carolina had come after him the way she had? She was scared of losing him? The laugh that threatened to bubble up took Wash by surprise. He choked it down. Carolina had been the one to leave him behind, trapped within the confines of a crashed ship. She had survived being thrown off a cliff and she had never once attempted to contact him, had just let him contend with the Project on his own, head full of memories that weren’t his...
Wash squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, a hand going to the back of his neck. He knew that wasn’t right, that those were the wrong memories. Carolina had come looking for him. She’d come all the way from Texas. She’d even gone to his mother’s house trying to find him. He had been afraid of losing her - to the Dreams, to the most recent fuckery Orange County had thrown at them - of course she would feel the same way about him. Gale had said it: they were the only family they had.
And Gale. Gale, who had pulled Wash out of the fire at least a half dozen times at this point. He’d always been there, there were no conflicting memories that stated otherwise, even with Epsilon confusing matters. Gale had always been there, with one hand on Wash’s shoulder, the other gripping a crossbow, ready to face down whatever came at them next. He was afraid of losing him too?
Bloodshot grey eyes noted the way Gale was gripping the steering wheel. He really was scared. Wash’s mouth felt dry and swollen. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like any of this. Not one bit. It made his stomach twist and roll. He tried to smile, but it formed on his face more like a grimace. “Y’re not gonna lose me,” he said. “I’m a fuckin’ cockroach, ‘member?”
“You’re a survivor, not invincible. But you are an alcoholic.” That was the first time Gale had actually said that out loud - there was no tiptoeing around it, no sugarcoating, no hemming and hawing. Yeah, he was terrified to say it, to face that it might be real - despite that, he had to get Wash to face it somehow. If that was by telling him what he needed to hear rather than picking and choosing fluffy words, then so be it.
Maybe it was better, in the views of some, to plunge onward mindlessly - to down another drink, to ignore and compartmentalize and listen to that little voice that said deal with it later. Hell, maybe it was easier. But Gale wasn’t going to do that now.
He pulled up to the house, the car in the driveway where he cut the engine. Yet he didn’t make a move to leave yet, just sat for a minute with a storm brewing in those eyes the color of ashes. There was a fire in them though, burning embers. “I love you like a brother,” he said, and he couldn’t help the emotion creeping into his voice, turning it rough and scalded. “I want you around for my wedding, standing next to me. Sober and healthy. David.”
It was also the first time he’d called Wash by his real name. “For me, for your sister, but for yourself most importantly - can you try? To accept this, and to beat this?”
Wash didn’t want to hear this, any of this. He didn’t want to hear that he was an alcoholic - a drunk - he didn’t want to hear the emotion - the fear - that tore at Gale’s voice. He didn’t want to hear that voice say his name. But there it was, all laid out and out in the open. And yeah, he knew it was true, he knew he was an alcoholic. He had probably known for a while now, but hearing it, especially from the man who was his best friend, made it real. Real and unavoidable. He couldn’t run from it, he couldn’t hide from it. Not anymore. It felt like a solid punch to the gut.
Wash stared at Gale for a long moment lost in that smoldering grey look. Words were spiraling around in his head, none of which were making it to his mouth. His head was swimming and he felt sick to his stomach. All too suddenly the car felt cramped and hot. He reached for the door handle, trying to get out and finding the door still locked. “Gale,” he winced, “let me out.”
Stare into the abyss and it stares back at you - or rather, Gale watched Wash too. He didn’t know what his own expression looked like at that moment, but he could probably guess. The Army soldier could probably count, on one hand, the number of times in his life that he could remember crying (those baby years didn’t count). Times when it actually counted, when it felt like the lump of coal in his chest was being cleaved out of him.
His eyes were wet, but the goddamn tears didn’t spill over - for that, he was somewhat thankful. “Come inside,” he said, and unlocked the doors. Then went around to attempt to help Wash in, so he wouldn’t stumble.
Wash tumbled out of the car. He fell to his knees and was sick. This was it, he realized, this was his rock bottom: alienating his sister and shoving her away, ruining whatever relationship he had with Anna and now throwing up on Gale’s driveway. Gale was right. Carolina was right. He was a brilliant mess and he couldn’t continue on like this. Not for long.
He finally realized everything he had, everyone he could lose, those who he cared about, who cared about him - Gale had likened him to a brother. It meant so much to him and he didn’t want to lose it. And maybe he was crying, the whiskey in his system having taken away any inhibitions that he would have normally used to bury his emotions. He hated the sound of his own sobs, but he couldn’t stop.
Gale was there, kneeling beside Wash as he puked his guts out - the whiskey with its tarry and heavy fumes and likely anything else he’d consumed, it was all coming out, and everything was coming out. All the pent up emotion and the fear - because Wash was scared too, they were both afraid of the present and these demons that had come to the surface, ripped open and exposed. Not to mention afraid of the future and what would happen.
The driveway was of course hard and gravelly, little pebbles digging indentations into Gale’s knee through his jeans. That was the least of his concerns though, not where they were. It was kind of late, and dark, the only light coming from the porch and the silvery moon. “Things are going to be alright, I promise. It’s going to be okay - “
Now he was crying too, a loud sniffle to accentuate that as he patted Wash’s back - and hugged him, actually hugged him. Screw all that ‘grown men didn’t hug each other’ shit imposed by society. “I’m not giving up on you,” he promised. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
The hug was like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man and Wash grasped hold. He clung on to Gale tightly and bawled against the other man’s shoulder as Gale cried against him. The two men succumbed to a wave of unrelenting emotion neither one of them had let themselves to acknowledge, much less feel, for far too long. Through all the pain and the fear, there was something that actually felt a little good. For the first time in over a year Wash understood what his life was and what it had become. It was terrible and a pathetic mess, everything his stepfather had told him time and time again he’d amount to, but Wash understood it, the good and the bad. He wasn’t avoiding it anymore. He couldn’t.
After a few moments Wash was able to more or less compose himself and pull away. His knees hurt from kneeling on the gravel driveway, the stench of bile, whiskey and Thai combo lingering in his nose. He dragged the back of his hand across his eyes. “Thank you, Gale.”
“It’s what brothers do for each other, right?” Gale asked rhetorically. He helped Wash up and would explain the mess to Leliana later. Right now the most important thing was to get his friend indoors and settled - he had to be exhausted by now, just from the events of the night, arguing with Carolina, drinking, and the cathartic cry. That whole purge of emotion.
The front door was unlocked, the nugs stirring in their beds, fat and lazy things they were. Boulette and Schmooples II probably wouldn’t want to move but snuffsnuff came the curious sound of Schmooples. Bella Nutella also padded along on paws to investigate. She whined a little, like she sensed the distress. And was ready to give the human furry cuddles if that would help?
“Here, our sofa’s comfy - you know that though,” Gale said as he unfolded one of the blankets. Wash had stayed there a few times, enough to know just how cozy the couch really was. “Let me get you some water.” Snuffsnuff. Right, and a snack for the nugs too.
It felt good to finally get inside the house where it was warm and cozy. He didn’t mind Schmooples, the adorable nug, sniffing around either. Wash had always liked Lelianna’s little Dream Pets. And Bella’s cold doggy nose against his hand brought a type of comfort only provided by a dog. Wash patted her head tenderly on his way to the couch.
He was exhausted and Gale’s couch was one of the most comfortable couches in the world. Wash probably could have fallen asleep the moment he sat down, but tried to stay awake long enough for Gale to bring him water. His head was already starting to pound and he was going to have the worst hangover tomorrow morning. Tomorrow Morning. He had a lot to answer for then. One thing at a time. Right now that thing was drinking water and getting some sleep. “Leli gonna be alright with me crashing on your couch?”
Also seeming to sense that the human needed comfort, Tella rested her snout on Wash’s lap, her chin lying there as she watched with those big brown doggie eyes. Gale came back into the room then, having fed the nugs some veggie scraps (it’d give them something to nosh on), and set the glass of water on the end table by the couch.
“She’ll be okay with it, I’ll text her and let her know,” he assured. Besides, Wash would probably be passed out when she got home anyway. “I’ll let Carolina know you’re here too.” She would worry otherwise - they had an argument, probably said shit they didn’t mean. But Gale knew they’d work it out. Over a decent breakfast that could cure any hangover, he’d encourage Wash to apologize and to forgive in turn - because they needed each other, those two.
And Gale, he needed Wash also. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what would happen next, but things were going to get better. This stubborn soldier wasn’t going anywhere - he’d be there, every step of the way.