No matter how amazing last night was, the three of them tangled together and staving off the rest of the world, the morning draws in hard. Wash can feel it, the ache in his backside, in his muscles, and it feels like they've burnt themselves into him. It takes him time to remember where he is when he wakes; he stares up at the ceiling trying to place it. His first thought is the MoI, that he's back there and he half expects to hear the Counsellor speaking to him. It's a feeling he's often woken up to.

It isn't the Charon base, or the New Republic either. He doesn't know... he needs to be fixed. Needs to be...

He remembers like shards of glass when he feels the warm bodies cradling him, arms wrapped around him. Remembers... oh... York in the Meta armour and escaping and... Fuck his head hurts. It doesn't go away. He feels like he's trying to think through fog, still trying to process that he isn't where he should be and the boss is going to be so fucking pissed.

Breakfast is brought to them and then York vanishes for a while, leaving him and Carolina sitting aimless in the room, jittery with the lack of purpose right now, and the thought that this could have been a terrible mistake.

Wash is on his feet when the door opens and York steps back in. "What are we supposed to do?"