goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"Christ that whole thing was a mess," Wash said. "Should've known something was wrong when the Director just applauded Maine and Wyoming for using like rounds." For a woman he was supposed to love or at least someone based on her, he sure had been trying to destroy Tex. That was what happened when you loved too much he supposed. Easier to avoid it altogether. He remembers how very much he had loved Allison.

"She was the best of us. She deserved better than us hunting her. He made us turn on each other and it worked. Although part of me wonders what would have happened if you hadn't brought the ship down. We might have ended up destroying each other anyway. Or as lab rats."

"He would've encouraged Sigma and Maine." And that. Those names. That makes it neccisary to pull away. More guilt- more pain and he'd been hanging on to Wash for too damn long anyway. They aren't that.

They weren't ever that. They were friends once and god only knows what now.

Besides he's half naked and getting cold from being out of the suit for so long. "So. Uh."

Right.

"Bunk?"

Wash lets out a hiss at that. The thought gives him a chill. "Yeah. He would've. His own personal monster." He hopes that Maine had been dead before he became that thing completely. That the AIs had burnt him out. It would have been kinder that way.

York lets go of him and that makes everything suddenly awkward. And cold now he's out of the shower. He turns back round and clears his throat, looking anywhere but at York. "Yeah. Got them to put a bunk into one of the extra storage rooms that've been cleared out. Not spacious but private and we're used to not spacious."

"Never really needed a big bed anyway with North crawling in like he did." Just on the bad nights. The worst nights when they couldn't stand to sleep but were too exhausted to be awake. When everything cracked like glass. York didn't bother with modesty- Wash ahd seen everything back then anyway, and slid into some soft drawstring pants and an old grifball tee. It feels wrong, not being in the armor- but he's exhausted.

He needs real sleep. And he needs to be out of the armor to do that.

"You guys were that close huh?" He'd known they were friends but... Chalk it up to Wash being unobservant. No one was surprised by that. Dumb rookie not paying attention.

Wash pulls the undershot back on in lieu of clothing and grabs his armour. "This way. You sleep. I'm gonna do another sweep of the perimeter."

"Easier to sleep with another body in the bed. My squad and I used to all pile in for warmth and North was used to South. South kinda hated it." He shrugs. "Kinda had to get used to the quiet, past few years."

No real option- no safe place or safe person to share a bed with anymore.

"South hated everything," Wash replies. "Or she did by the end of it."

He shakes his head and stretches to settle the suit, make sure it fits okay. "It sounds nice to have someone like that though."

"It was pretty nice. Now it's just me and my sidearm. D used to keep watch but..." No Delta AI anymore. When he failed to die, D got deleted. Suit protocols being what they are.

One more grave he needs to dig.

"How's the lock on the door?"

"I envied you that, you know. Delta. You and North. I was so excited for Epsilon. A partner." And look how that had turned out. If it had worked the Meta would probably have come after him though.

"Should be solid. Mine is."

"If they were what they thought they were? It would've worked out. You'd have gotten one." It's not Wash's fault- it's not anyone's but the Director's.

"Good. Kinda- I'll double check it." He hasn't lived this long by just taking those details at face value.

"I remember what they did to the Alpha. The Director. Sigma and Gamma. They worked together to rip it apart." And there were nights when he couldn't remember who exactly he was. Another good reason to have a bunk out of the way of the rest of the soldiers here.

"Alright. I wouldn't expect anything less."

"...D didn't remember but he had..." Can a fragment of a mind have PTSD? Yeah, yeah it could. "Echos. Nightmares."

Project Freelancer. The best and the supposed brightest. At the end all of them to the one was as broken as the AI the Director had been selling. Now it's him and Wash and it's all very...sad. Bittersweet. They lived.

No.

They survived. Very different. "Where is this bunk of yours?"

If a fragment can try to kill itself over and over, then yeah, a fragment can have PTSD. "I'm not surprised."

What he remembered was awful and it was burnt into his memory. No wonder the Alpha had shed logic first.

"Just over here," Wash says, gesturing a little way ahead to a cluster of smaller buildings. His bunk, York's, a secure building that houses Kimball's, another that keeps their records and computers for surveillance.

York slings his gear over his shoulder and follows along, waving at the kids that wander by. After one or two murmurs of 'i thought he'd be taller' he rolls his eyes.

"One John Spartan rolls up seven feet tall outside the armor and now we all gotta be huge. Jesus christ."

They seem a little more surprised to see Wash out of armour. He ignores them mostly, but snorts at what York says. "Yeah, damn those guys. Connie always said that a taller opponent just gave more leverage to bring them down."

"Watching her take down Maine repeatedly on the mats is proof enough of that." It had been a thing of beauty. She really had been the best of them. Carolina had just been the most loyal. He'd been...

The most foolish, really. Trying so hard to be what he wasn't. To have what he couldn't. Like it'd make up for everything else.

"I think he enjoyed it," Wash replies, a hint of a smile on his face. "He always just got up and let her do it again and again until she got a move perfect."

"Yeah, well-" And it's habit now to drop into a crouch and start working at the lock, not missing a beat. "He and Florida were always the most patient with you two. I was kind of a dick. Sorry."

Wash just watches when York drops to start picking the lock. He could open it but he thinks it's more of a security net than any real need to break in.

"They threw a group of disparate personalities with our own set of quirks into a team situation and just hoped it would work. It kind of did for a while."

"Till Tex and the other AI, yeah." A twist and a press and there's the first catch. After that it's easy as breathing, one two three, going by feel and route till he hears a click and the door swings open. "You need a better lock."

He wonders if York ever resents Tex. They'd teamed up, but does he ever think that maybe it would have been better if she'd never been brought onto the team? That maybe they'd still be a team?

He rolls his eyes. "I'll add one to the shopping list. You planning on breaking in often because I could just leave the door ajar instead."

"I'll rework it for you." Adding an encryption lock on the top of this is probably overkill.

But.

He does wanna be able to sleep. Really sleep, on a mattress that's not covered slab of debris. Promises of that have him slinging his bag over his shoulder and stepping inside, peering around.

"You don't have to do that." The biggest threat to this place is him, but he doesn't want York to think that. "If you want to though, I'd probably sleep better."

He goes to lean against the doorframe, watching as York pokes around. There's a bed and a locker in there, a couple of crates that double as a table. "This work for you?"

"Looking for the cat photos and the skateboard, honestly." One bed and that has him drawing up short. "I'm not taking your bunk, am I?"

"The- heh, haven't had one of those for a while." God, he'd nearly forgotten about it honestly. It seems an insignificant detail these days, like it belongs to someone else. The room is spartan honestly. It holds his kit and that's about all.

He shakes his head. "No. There's another room like this out the other side of the building. It was a storeroom. Got sectioned off a while back. If you prefer this one though, it'll take me all of five minutes to move. I don't have a whole lot of stuff."

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