They'd been family, or the closest thing that Wash had had. Even with all of the crap they'd been put through, those months before things had gone to shit had been some of the best of his life. They'd built something between them and then it had been gone and they'd left him behind and even if he logically understands why, well, his AI had never been logic and he can't make himself understand it otherwise, not really.

He stares for a moment when he turns back and York has taken his helmet off. Part of him wants to do the same, put them on the level. He doesn't.

"They ate him. Rewrote his brain. And he wasn't Maine anymore." There's a note of pathetic, painful understanding in his voice.