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Sharon Carter is a super spy (exshieldagent) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-05-07 21:18:00

Who: Sharon Carter and Agent Washington
When: Right after Wash woke from his coma
Where: Hospital Room
What: Sharon’s taking his statement post Dream related injury
Rating/Warnings: Low/None
Status: Complete


Wash was beyond ready to go home. His doctor kept telling him that he was recovering well, even faster than they expected. Wash suspected the Dreams had something to do with that. It hadn’t taken very long for the Dreams to come back. They couldn’t seem to wait for him to return home before they started again. The last thing he remembered from the Dreams, Locus had clocked him in the back of the head with the butt of his gun (which had resulted in the bleed over that had sent him to the hospital in the first place). Then there had been some muddled hallucinations and then in the next Dream, he’d been standing with Sarge and Donut in the heart of the Federal Army of Chorus, learning that the forces Felix had attempted to recruit them to fight against weren’t necessarily the evil empire they had been lead to believe. In fact, the leader of the Federal Army, General Donald Doyle, was – to use Donut’s own words – a weenie.

And Carolina and Epsilon were still off on their own…somewhere.

Back in the waking world, Wash decided that even attempting to make sense of the fresh madness his Dreams had decided to plop him in the middle of while high on morphine was useless. He’d get more Dreams – there was always more – and in time things would start to make sense again. So long as Locus stayed as far away from Wash and his men as possible, he would continue to take things in stride.

In the meantime, Wash was itching to go home and he wanted to do so before his doctors decided they wanted a better look at his neural implants. So far, they had left well enough alone, but Wash wasn’t banking on that lasting much longer. Besides, he missed his own bed in his own apartment.

Sharon leaned in through the open doorway and gave a gentle knock on the wooden door. She’d been keeping tabs on everything Agent Washington related since Wash had been admitted to the hospital. If there were any problems or funny questions, she’d be ready to swoop in all MIB-like, and take care of things. Except without the mind eraser, flashy pen thing. (What wouldn’t she give for one of those?)

“Hello?” She and Wash had seen each other around the Agency, and were at least on relatively friendly terms, even if they weren’t close. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind her coming to take his report in person. It would likely be easier for both of them this way, actually.

Wash recognized Sharon when she stuck her head in his room. They were technically on different teams within the Agency, but they had worked closely together during some of Orange County’s more crazy stunts. Even if sometimes she was only a voice over a comlink, Wash felt as though he knew her and could trust her. It wasn’t a friendship, exactly, but a bond not unlike the one soldiers often formed among each other during combat.

And Wash was happy to see her, even if he was unable to realize that she was there on behalf of the Agency and not just as a visitor. “Carter,” he grinned at her a little stupidly. “Hi. Come in. Are you here to spring me?”

Well, the grin was a good sign. Truth be told, Sharon had been concerned that Wash might never wake up from this coma. There wasn’t a whole lot of precedence to compare it to, so she didn’t have much to go on. There was a lot to learn, a lot of room to grow. She was a little excited about it, actually, though she’d never tell him that.
q
“Hey, Wash.” She moved into the room and pushed the large door closed behind herself. “You’ve got your own room.” That was nice. A little privacy for the incredibly weird conversation that was to follow.

“Yeah, not bad, huh?” Wash tilted his head slightly as he watched Sharon close the door after her. He noted she did not confirm that she was there to get him out of the hospital. “You’re not here t’ get me out,” he mused. “You wanna pull up a chair? Have a seat for a bit?”

“No, unfortunately not,” Sharon’s voice was apologetic as she crossed the small room and took a seat in the proffered chair. She clutched her bag in her lap, then started digging through it for the manilla folder and a pen. “The doctors want you to stay for just a little longer, and I’m not really one to argue. I’m here to take your report.” She glanced up and over at him. “If you feel you’re prepared to give it? I figure it’ll save us both a headache and paperwork later.”

“My….report?” Wash looked at her oddly. He didn’t remember being on any kind of assignment for the Agency before waking up with a gash in the back of his head. Carolina had told him about the aliens invading, but he’d been a day into his coma at that point. Maybe Sharon hadn’t heard that. “I was unconscious during the alien invasion,” he told her. “The Dream bleedover happened the night...uh...morning?...before.”

“Oh, sorry, I should be more specific,” Sharon spoke apologetically. “We take reports from all Agency personnel, contractors, and persons of interest who have had Dream Episodes which require hospitalization.” But that thought made her pause. She’d seen in his file that he’d been in the hospital before. “Haven’t you been interviewed before?”

Wash’s brows furrowed and the new tilt of his head gave him the look of a confused cocker spaniel -- a shaved confused cocker spaniel -- “Noo?” He said as if the policy was news to him. But in an odd way it made sense. “But I haven’t been in the hospital because of an Episode before.” This statement was followed by a slight pause before he went on. “Have I?” he asked more to himself than to Sharon. “Gale and Kyu took care of me durin’ the mental break and Lina kept me from bleedin’ to death. The last time I was actually in the hospital was right before I was discharged from the marines…” he trailed off thoughtfully. A moment later he looked back at Sharon. “Was I supposed t’ make a report? I wasn’t partta the Agency when I broke down. May have been when South shot me in the back, but I honestly don’ remember.”

“Oh, you weren’t Dreaming the last time you were in the hospital.” Sharon jotted a couple of things down on her notepad. “Maybe that’s why I couldn’t find your previous report. I thought it was shoddy paperwork, but apparently not.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “That was my mistake. Really, no need to worry about it.” Then she shifted in her chair, moving to set her purse down on the floor. She gave Wash her full attention now, as she recalled everything she knew and had read about the man. “So, tell me about what happened.”

Wash watched Sharon jot down a few notes. His head cocked to the side slightly. “What happened?” He repeated. “Like this time? Uh, well,” he squinted his eyes a little. “I was Dreamin’,” which was fairly obvious. “The Reds an’ Blues an’ I…” he trailed a little. He wasn’t sure what was in his file at the Agency, but he figured Sharon would stop him if she didn’t know what he was talking about. “And, uh, well...we kinda got sucked inta this civil war on the planet we...erm...crashed on. The mercenary workin’ for the Federal Army - this huge sonofabitch calling himself Locus - cracked me on the back of the head and took me, Sarge an’ Donut hostage. The injury bled through when I woke up. I don’t really remember exactly what happened when I woke up, just….I tried to get to my sister’s room and then everything just…” Wash shrugged, “stopped. That’s the only way I can describe it. I was in a coma before, and that’s really the only way I can describe what it feels like.”

Sharon nodded. This time was the important time for this discussion today. She listened carefully, writing down what she could understand from what he was saying. Armies, Reds and Blues, Sarge and Donut. “I see.” She wrote everything just stopped in quotes. “Tell me more about this Locus. Have you met him in your Dreams before?”

“Once,” Wash answered. “He shot at me once before and the other mercenary, the one working for the New Republic, stepped in front of it it and took the shot for me. He was lucky, it caught him in the calf. Simple through and through. Clean. Even Doc couldn’t fuck patching that up…” Wash caught himself before he went off in a ramble again. “There...really isn’t much t’ say about Locus, other than he’s batshit and seems to have it out for me personally. No fucking clue why,” Wash shrugged. “For all I know I fucked him over durin’ my Freelancer days and didn’t know it.”

Sharon wrote down the words “New Republic” and underlined them. It sounded familiar to her, and she decided she should do some research. Then she wrote the word “Freelancer” and drew a line to Wash’s name. She was wishing that she’d brought a tape recorder instead of simply taking notes by hand, but she felt like she was getting most of what he was saying.

“Are there any aspects of your Dream or Dream Bleedover that you feel may pose a threat to the community?” Sharon asked. It was a standard question. The Agency would play clean-up, but if they could be prepared beforehand? All the better.

“I don’t think so,” Wash answered thoughtfully. “Not at this point. There was a war with an alien race, but I only saw like...three aliens in the Dreams and I ended up killin’ ‘em. Now I guess we’re in the middle of a civil war on the planet we crashed on. I guess maybe that could come through? Funny thing, though, we were at the crash site for two weeks an’ didn’t see or hear anythin’. ‘Course, the com tower I built didn’t exactly work. Some kind of interference from the planet, I think?” He looked at Sharon and for a moment took a hard right in his train of thought, “hey, Carter? D’you think the Agency could do or say somethin’ t’ the hospital doctors t’ keep’em outta my head?”

“Of course.” Sharon said, nodding once as she wrote down things like “alien war” and “civil war” and “faulty comm tower.” She stopped scribbling and glanced over at him. “I take it there’s a good reason you don’t want them in your head?” She asked. Sharon wasn’t privy to that information. Either it was above her pay grade, or the paperwork she had on him didn’t give details on what was inside his head. She gave him a moment to answer, but wouldn’t press for too much information if he didn’t want to talk about it.

There was a damn good reason why Wash wanted the doctors to stay out of his head. He knew there was something about the neural implants in his file. There had to have been, there was all sorts of things in his file about his armor, and you really couldn’t have one without the other. But Wash had no idea what security level one needed in order to look at the dossier the Agency had on him. Considering the level of tech the armor was, it may have been rather high.

“I have neural implants,” Wash explained, dull grey eyes flickering towards the door of his room as if concerned who just might over hear them. “They allow me to synch up with my armor and have an A.I in order to control the armor’s functions. Carolina made up some story about them being skull reconstruction in order to keep the ER staff from sticking me in an MRI machine or CT scan when I first got here.” Because magnets and very sensitive computer chips were not a match made in heaven.

Sharon nodded. She wrote that down, too. Sharon didn’t have any Dream gifts herself, but she’d met her fair share of folks who did. It wasn’t new to her, and didn’t change her opinion of him at all. Though, she was curious about this AI business. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t you worry.” Then she glanced up from her notes once more. “Is there anything else that I can do for you? Or anything else you want included in your report about your experience?”

Wash looked relieved. He had faith that The Agency could use whatever they had at their disposal to keep the tech in his head from becoming common knowledge to the doctors not on their payroll. “Thanks,” he said. “I owe you.”

As for anything else he had to report Wash looked thoughtful for a moment. There really wasn’t anything he thought he should add. “I don’t think so,” he said, “but if anything changes I can file an amendment if you need me to.”

“That sounds fine.” Sharon tucked her notebook away in her purse, and pulled out one of her cards. She scribbled her phone number on the back, then held it out for him to take. “If you need anything else, or can think of anything else, feel free to call me. I’ll see how quickly we can get you home to your own bed.” Then she stood to let herself out.

Wash took the card and nodded. Unfortunately, the hospital gown he was currently clad in did not afford him pockets to put her card in, so he decided to hang on to it so it wouldn’t get lost. “Thanks, Carter,” he said a little tiredly. The interview had worn him out a little. “If I think of anything, I’ll call you.”

Above everything, Wash was looking forward to going home.