The Universe's Mixer

A few days after Maxine left the next checkup Wash had came from baffled nurses, doctors, and eventually surgeons. More blood work and x-rays were done as Wash grinned cheekily at their confusion. They were discussing releasing him and Wash grinned all the more. Maxine having healed all of Wash's internal injuries had left Wash feeling pretty good. The leg and the arm he could deal with, he found, without the pain of breathing.

He tried to text Jo but with no result. That was odd. Ted's number had completely disappeared. He was sitting in a wheel chair waiting for his physical therapist to arrive to torture him. (He was waiting on her to ask him out as it wasn't odd for relationships to start with a good amount of torture. Though she looked around 80 years old, she was feisty. Wash could work with that.)

So, waiting, he played angry birds on his phone. 5 years of intense pilot training and several more years of intense piloting had come to this, throwing pretend birds into pretend structure trying to kill pretend green pig heads. Despite it all, it was satisfying.

Static suddenly interrupted his game and he did what any skilled technician would do, bang on the side of the phone.

"Hey!" he yelled.

The entire news report left him baffled. But it riled him up a when they had mentioned Jesse.

When Angry Birds returned to the screen he just sort of blinked and looked up as if the answer would be in front of him.

"Wait, what? What does that even mean?" he exclaimed.