[ The little nudge seems to both surprise her and not, a flash of tensing muscles before she just relaxes. She’s always been the kind to nudge, kick, punch, sling arms around friends, or she used to be. It takes longer, these days. ]
Both, I guess. I dunno. I— fuck, I don’t feel like I’m doing alright. Barely feel like a fucking— [ she sighs, rests her head on her knee with her gaze off to the side ] Barely feel like a person sometimes.
[ She feels like a shadow that somehow got left behind when the person casting it left. She feels like a hollow shell, empty because she built who she is around not being like her brother and doesn’t know how to define herself independent of that. Three decades where who you were was dependent on being who people didn’t want her to be.
God, she never even told North this. She told the York on the rig about how she didn’t know who she was on her own, but never her brother himself. This feels— weird, though it’s not entirely a bad weird. ]
[ wash notes that tension -- he won't take it personally. honestly, he'd probably react the same way if south had nudged him a little without him being prepared for it first. he just -- isn't sure what to do here, in multiple ways. over the years he's learned, by necessity, to be kind of a care taker, to be good at helping people through stuff and talking things out, but this is south, and that makes it stranger for many, many reasons.
he knows how important it is to listen, at least. especially with that sigh, the tone of her voice, and those specific words: barely feeling like a person. that's not something said lightly, and just from everything about her body language and her voice, he knows how much of a weight that has to be. he's quiet, for a few moments. ]
I remember how you used to fight. They always drilled you together, too, but whenever I saw you on your own -- I know that was always a thing for you. Got used to relying on always having someone there. [ a slight shrug. ] I didn't get any of that, from our spar just now.
[ it feels a little strange trying to give her assurances when he feels like he still doesn't know her all that well at all. it'd be easy to give empty platitudes, but wash doesn't want to do that, and that's one concrete observation he can give. another silence, this one a little longer, he stays leaned back against the wall, watching her. ]
I know it's really not the same, but. I think I can relate.
[ it's an offer, gentle, subtle. she's sharing a lot and talking about herself and how she feels and he can tell it's -- more than she would normally say. if she wants to go on talking, he'll keep listening and hearing her out, but if she wants to take that offer, wash can just talk about himself for a bit, instead. ]
…thanks. Worked on that with Brand—that friend I mentioned. Pushed me until I started adjusting. Guess that’s something.
[ Not a lot, but she appreciates what he’s trying to do. It did take a long time, a lot of sparring sessions, but that was how she and Brand spent most of their time together. Sparring. He understood what it was like to have someone that you spent your whole life with, how messy emotions around that could be. He had a lot less conflicting feelings about it, he had no urge to run, but it still let him understand.
She feels heavy, and when she lifts her head again she looks at him sidelong. ]
…‘cause of the whole— [ she nods vaguely at his head, she’s not sure if that’s more or less tactful than saying Epsilon outright ] —thing? Or—?
[ She’ll take the breather. This is all so— tricky, really. ]
[ he appreciates the attempt. it's not like saying the name sets him off or anything, but its clearly something he avoids talking about for the most part, and -- his turn to feel a little strange, now. he only ever really talked about this to carolina in small pieces, and -- no one else. york would've tried, and wash would've always dodged around it. north actually tried, and wash still refused to talk about it even with north having seen quite a bit with his own eyes thanks to walking right into a dream.
maybe the difference is that this isn't about someone who wants to talk about it to help him, or anything. this is more about helping south, and even then -- that's not completely right. it's trying to make a connection, he guesses. either way its not people trying to help him, and that seems to matter a lot. go figure.
he nods. ] -- Epsilon. Yeah.
[ there is a distinct shift in his tone, subtle as it might be, a little more empty, a little more detached. for as practiced as he is, he still finds it safer to just try and keep more distance if he ever has to talk about it directly. ]
World of difference between an unstable AI fragment being shoved into your brain and having a brother, I know, but. [ a half-shrug. ] I spent a lot of time -- figuring out which things weren't me. Trying to find myself again, in all the mess.
[ he tips his head back against the wall again, lifting his gaze up towards the sky. it's darker out, now. ]
I don't know if I ever found it, honestly.
[ it took -- emptying himself out. hollowing himself completely. trying to build himself up from nothing again, trying to make sure it was the right things he was sliding into place and not something bleeding through . . . it was hard. still is. and while it's very, very different from anything south's been through, he still does kind of know what it's like to define himself wholly around what he isn't, and to struggle with feeling like himself at all. ]
[ It’s one of the things she never really got near, with the Wash on the rig. When he talked about things that had fucked him up, it was usually about the ways she’d fucked him up—not exactly surprising, that was rather more the point at the time. Drilling it into her head how fucked up everything she did was. Making her face it. ]
…fuck, they tore us all to fucking pieces.
[ The Project and their damn experiments. Psychological, AI based, they all fucked bits of them up. Broke them. Were any of them still who they were when they signed up, by the end? No. Probably not. But some of them sure got hit more literally than others, more violently. What happened to Wash was certainly on that end of the damn scale. ]
World of fuckin’ difference, yeah. Far fuckin’ worse, for one, but—
[ Another sigh. She shuffles so she can sit against the wall too, lets her raised leg fall to lay flat. ]
Yeah. Yeah it—
…I don’t think I know who I am, anymore. Don’t know if I ever fuckin’ will. [ she snorts, with empty amusement ] What a pair of fuckin’ wrecks.
[ this wash, at least, has had no real reason or need to confront this south with the worst parts of herself. if things somehow did go that way again, he would, but for now he's more than content just leaving that in the past. what she did was fucking awful, but it's not like wash hasn't done awful things either, not all of which south knows about. none of them were great people, to have ended up where they did.
he makes an amused sound, at her answer. just as hollow, but there is a genuine wry humor there. he hasn't gotten this far without learning to see some of the dark humor in the tragedy of everything that happened to him, to all of them. ]
I think in order to get this far, I kind of had to accept that being a wreck is just -- part of it. Always gonna be.
[ he isn't ever going to not be a fuckup, not be a mess, not be irreversibly damaged by everything he's been through. that's just the way it is. he can't really get past it. it's just kind of part of who he is, now. and any sense of who he is, even something like that, is worth holding onto. ]
It's just being a fucked up mess isn't the only thing. [ a pause. ] That's the idea, anyway. Can't say I'm good at it.
[ wash is still, fundamentally, mostly a fucked up washed up space marine. but he's learned he can also be other things. a mentor, a teacher. a very put-upon babysitter. he never stops being a damaged mess, never stops being a risk to the people around him because of it, but. there's other things. ]
Not sure I’m there yet. The— not the only thing… thing.
[ The bad things she’s done often feel like all she really is, anymore. It should get easier, with less people around who know, but somehow it gets harder. She’ll never know if her brother would have one day forgiven her and— she feels like if she doesn’t hold onto those things, then it’s the same as ignoring them outright, pretending they didn’t happen, acting like she did nothing wrong. But she did everything wrong, and she knows that, and so she makes herself hold onto it.
That it might just be killing her a little more every day— well, doesn’t she deserve that? Ugggh. Emotions are stupid. ]
I can pretend, y’know. I can act— normal. Better. But I still don’t…
[ She gestures vaguely. There’s one or two people here who maybe genuinely care about her, and she can’t comprehend why. ]
[ he watches her for a moment, quiet, considering. it's a strange thing -- he's trying to be conscious of the fact that, for all the familiarity between them, he doesn't really know her. not like her brother did, not like her friends on the rig. she's changed a lot in the time she's been there. she doesn't know him either, really. he's basically a different person from who she remembers back in the project. he doesn't want to be too presumptuous, to pretend he knows her better than he does. he doesn't want to tell her anything like yes, you are there, because how could he really know?
but there is a familiarity, a connection, they aren't complete strangers. and there is enough there that talking like this feels -- different, but not terrible. he's not forcing himself through it. ]
Takes time. [ is all he offers, still staring up at the darkening sky overhead. ] And you know what?
[ a pause. and he turns just enough to look at her. ]
I don't know if I'm there, either. Sometimes just feels like all I did was get -- better and better at playing pretend. You know?
[ he is a stunningly good liar and actor, whether or not south has had the pleasure of seeing it. it turns out that when he had that much truth shoved into his mind but had to act completely ignorant of it, those skills come about by necessity. sometimes he thinks he's lying to himself, too. another beat, and he looks back at the sky. ]
But wherever I am now, it's -- different. It's better.
Better. Yeah. [ she scrubs a hand over her face, breathes ] S'all about being better.
[ That was always what everyone on the rig, that Wash included, pushed her towards. Just doing better. That Wash once called her on refusing to even try to change because— "You think you're going to fuck up if you try to be something else, so you don't even try at all."
He wasn't wrong. It still took her another month and finding out about the experiment the Project did on her and North to start beginning to try. To hear all this from Wash is about the least surprising part of this interaction because she knows a little of how hard he had to push to get to where he is, because really the fact that Wash got as far as he has eventually became proof that she wouldn't be wasting her time trying. Even for all that they're different.
He wasn't the reason she finally tried to change, but he was certainly one of the catalysts in getting her there. So as strange as it is to be here, having this conversation, she's glad they can be. He's not that Wash, but there's still that common ground. ]
...started trying to be better for North, y'know. He was the first one I promised I'd try to do better with.
But this North— last time we talked, really talked, he said he barely fuckin' recognised me and he sounded— like he didn't like it? Or couldn't... believe it, maybe. 'cause it wasn't him that got through to me, 'cause he wasn't there.
Can't even blame him, considering how fuckin' long I spent lying to him about the Recovery thing. But that stung.
[ Dramatic sigh, a vague grabby hand. ]
Ugh, where's that alcohol you had? Swear I won't get ugly drunk.
[ wash has to reach a little for it, but not that far. he plops back down against the wall, giving her a bit of a look as he hands the bottle over. ]
Please don't.
[ he means it nicely, though. enough of a playful lilt to his voice, even through the drawl. after she takes it from him he leans back, lifting a hand to knead at his temples, just thinking through what she's saying. wanting to be better for north, talking about this one, and. he gets what she's talking about, but it's still a bit to wrap his head around, since he hasn't experienced anything like that. someday he'll ask her more about these other versions of him, but he really prefers not to think about it too much, right now. ]
He's only human, I guess. [ finally, after a long pause. ] Probably would've been nice if he found it in him to be happier for you.
[ he leans forward, propping his elbows up on his knees as he turns to look at her again. ]
You said you started trying to be better for him, though. How about now?
[ She flashes him a crooked grin, if only for a second; she was absolutely never a scout. She opens the bottle and takes a swig, wipes her mouth after she lowers it again.
It sure would've been nice, and maybe he'd have gotten there but she'll never know, now, she supposes. She's not sure if it'd be kinder to herself to tell herself they'd have figured it out, or to tell herself that it'd have all gone the way it did on the rig. Ended in them not even talking at all, in North unable to even look at her if he couldn't find it in him to forgive her. Which he never would, she was sure. ]
Now... guess it's for other you poor assholes who gotta put up with me. [ there's a wry little note to it ] And— y'know, for myself, I guess. I don't... I don't want to fuck my whole entire fuckin' life up over and over, y'know? Getting too old for that shit. Me in my twenties had far too much fuckin' energy doing that shit over and over.
[ She says that like it's a joke and it kind of is—it's not like she actually stopped once she turned thirty, all her worst actions came after—but she has had a bad habit of burning everything to the ground around her for one reason or another. Because she thought it was coming anyway, because something got too serious and she got scared, so on and so on.
Now she's thirty-three, older than her brother will ever be thanks to her own actions, both older and younger than she should be because of her own actions, and... she's tired. She's tired of everything going to hell. She can't control the world around her, but she can control herself. Mostly. ]
Just -- maybe try to make that second part the first thing. [ a sigh, rubbing a hand through his hair as he leans back against the wall again. ] Sometimes you do the right thing, or -- some right things, anyway. For the wrong reasons.
[ though to be fair to wash, those wrong reasons were the main thing that kept him going for a long time. bone-deep anger, a bitterness in him that would never die out, spiteful and hateful and boiling into nothing less than the unfettered pursuit of any kind of vengeance, any kind of justice. he did it for vengeance, for his friends -- not often for himself. and even if he's reached a better place, now, after all these years, it's still something he struggles with. ]
Not that wanting to spare your friends the trouble is a bad reason, exactly. But other people -- can change. Can let you down. Won't always be what you need them to be. Or maybe they'll won't be there, anymore, through no fault of their own.
[ north. carolina. anyone else. ]
Changing for your own sake has got to be a good enough reason, in itself.
[ he blames himself for so much he knows isn't really his fault. finds it difficult to motivate himself for his own sake, finds it dedicate himself to others, instead. but he knows its not -- the best way to handle it. not really. ]
Yeah. Yeah, you're not wrong. But fuck it's hard. Easier to like— tell myself other people deserve better from me than I deserve better from me? Y'know?
[ She gets the sense he might sort of get that, or something similar. She's not at a place where she can admit that maybe she kind of hates herself, where she can uncover that deep pool of self-loathing that's been filling itself up ever since the day she let North die and shot Wash in the back but has only gotten deeper since she stopped putting up a mask of not caring about what she did wrong.
She can't hate herself, she's gotten through life by aggressively putting herself first, with self-confidence and a 'fuck you, I don't care what you think' attitude—how can both those things exist in one person? Can they? Do they? ]
But I do— I do want to. I don't want to be that person. Fuck, I don't want to be that bitch that you shot, even though I know she was me. I'm not her anymore, it's...
[ She makes a vague noise and takes another swig. ]
Fuckin' universe hopping bullshit, man. Talk about a mindfuck.
[ wash has reached a level of stability, but that doesn't really mean he's been cured of anything. just that he's found ways to manage, to more or less be okay with where he's at. he's not a great person. better, but not great. he's done things that are terrible and would probably still do more, in the right circumstances. he's still more than a little fucked up, or maybe extremely fucked up, in more ways than one, and he doesn't really have the most healthy ways of dealing with it. what he's learned, mostly, is self-awareness, understanding where his problems are and how he's dealing with them, whether it's good or not. and he is very aware that he very often utterly loathes himself.
he might be able to hear some of that in her. but it's not for him to prod at, not unless she decides to push at it herself. he watches as she takes another swig, quiet. ]
I've done some pretty fucked up shit, too, you know.
[ no idea if she'd have ever learned about any of that from his other self. ]
I don't know if I'm not that person anymore. It's a little hard to find closure over something if you did if you can't -- own it.
[ a half-shrug, leaning back. ]
That's just me, though. We actually are different people. Maybe I'd think differently if I did a bit more universe-hopping, like you did.
Yeah, I know. Not— y'know, details, outside of the whole shooting me in the face and blowing me up thing, but...
[ Bits and pieces. Things about how he was terrorising the simulation troopers before they apparently adopted him. It's not like she ever got the full story, but parts of it came up, especially as that Wash's head was still in that era of his life for a while for complicated reasons she still doesn't fully understand. ]
That's the thing, y'know. I did all that shit, I lived all that, I own that now. I was a fucking monster the way I acted, but— I got yanked before I died, y'know. I'm not the woman who took that bullet. The me that took that bullet would never have done half the things I've done since, y'know? She wouldn't have changed for fuckin' anyone.
[ Not that she had the chance, but she didn't have that chance precisely because she wouldn't have ever taken it. She just kept barrelling ahead until she made whatever dumb choice lead her to be in front of Wash that day. ]
Don't even know what to do with that, half the time. Not like I didn't deserve that bullet. Not like I don't, 'cause I still did that stuff, I still let my brother die and shot you in the back and all that other shit.
M'just... trying not to be someone who'd do it again. [ then firmer ] I'm not someone who'd do it again.
[ wash would like to think he's not that person anymore, but he really can't say that with much conviction. not just because by nature he finds it important to own his mistakes, to not shy away from the responsibility for the things that he did -- but because he knows himself a little too well. if he's pushed in the right way, if he has the right reasons, he would still absolutely do some pretty terrible things.
he can admire that conviction in her voice, when she says that. he looks back at her, meeting her eye the whole time -- and nods, affirming. ]
You're not. [ a small, almost-smile. ] You should be proud of that much.
[ It's not the first time she's looked surprised by something he's said, today, and it might not end up being the last. Her expression softens a little with some sort of relief and she nods. ]
...yeah. Yeah, it does. Thanks, Wash.
[ She has to hold onto that conviction, she has to believe that she wouldn't turn into that person again. A part of her knows that if she was pushed hard enough, if enough went wrong, she might. She'll never be a perfect person, she'll never be palatable to most people, she'll never stop being a hot mess, not completely.
But if she doesn't tell herself that she won't fuck up that badly again, then she can never trust herself to do everything she needs to do to stop herself backsliding in the first place. Because if she could still do that, then what business does she have trying to make a life for herself? Because if she could still do it, then why shouldn't she just let someone shoot her again?
It's not that simple, and she knows it. She's sure Wash does too. None of this will ever be simple, and the way they approach their own bullshit is always going to be whatever it is that's going to get them, personally, by. ]
God. Fuckin'— look at us. [ she laughs, still not quite a truly humourful sound, but closer ] The fucked up leftovers of Project Freelancer, trying our best to not be as fucked up, talking and shit. Fucking pigs are gonna start flying next.
I think we're a few klicks past the flying pigs, by now. [ just so dryly. ] Might have left them behind around the inter-dimensional jumps and people being brought back from the dead so they can live their lives in a sex city.
[ a bit of a laugh there, though it's -- hollow. they've been talking about them, and that's good, cathartic. but there's other people who'd waltzed back into life that wash never thought he'd see again. maybe south is more used to that, with her other-world, but.
they're just gone again, now. and wash quiets down, tipping his head back again with a small sigh. ]
There are probably worse places to start from scratch, I suppose.
[ The funny thing is she's really not, more used to it that is. Back on the rig, the only Freelancer who arrived after her and York was Carolina, and no one she knew ever really disappeared. Brand's partner Rune, did, but she didn't know Rune all that well and only had to deal with Brand's breakdown, not any emotional reaction of her own.
No one had ever vanished and as much as it hurt to have North right there with her but not talking to her, at the end, he was still there, alive. There was at least a certain sense of closure. Now there's just... empty space. ]
Worse places, but lots better places too. [ god, she was meant to go home, she was meant to skip death altogether and go live with Wash, Carolina and their sim troopers ] Not like we get to be picky, though.
[ She takes another swig from the bottle, then offers it his way. ]
[ wash waves away the offer, just gently pushing it back in her direction. it is a good drinking time, but he still prefers not to. anything that has a chance of his control slipping is stuff he'd rather avoid, but on a more practical level, you know what's good after a spar? actual hydration. alcohol wouldn't help. ]
-- Can I ask you, though? [ just still staring at the sky overhead. it's well and truly dark out, now, with how long they've been up here since their spar. its nice. quiet. peaceful. ] That rig of yours. How many of us were around?
[ Fair enough. She doesn't immediately take another sip but she rests it in her lap and taps her nails against the glass. Thinking, mentally counting. ]
From home, or just Freelancer? Seven total, five freelancers, six from Freelancer if you count Price.
[ A beat. ]
Actually, nine total if you count the AI. Delta and Theta came along.
[ it takes him a moment to even realize who she's talking about when she mentions price, and. ugh. ugh. he would say something about it, except the revelation that the AI came along is immediately more concerning to him. ]
So -- York and North? Showed up there with their AI?
Yup. [ she pops her lips on the p, but then— stalls ] Okay, well, actually... uh. I showed up with Delta, since y'know. You gave him to me before I bolted. York came after. Alone.
[ The way she holds herself shifts a little, gets tenser, and she takes another swig from the bottle again. She's always been a bit of an open book, unless she's very specifically trying not to be. ]
[ very easy to see, especially for someone like wash. he doesn't really want to press her on anything uncomfortable, here, but -- given her history with everyone, its probably difficult to not at least tread close while asking questions like this. he just looks back at her for a moment, and nods. ]
How'd that turn out?
[ prompting but intentionally a very vague, open question. she can skip over as much as she wants, and even everything if it suits her. ]
[ She takes a half minute of silence to consider, but, really, it's not the worst shit she's ever done, and it worked out eventually. Hell, she was on better terms with York than her brother, at the end. ]
Being, y'know, still a total bitch when I first got there I uh. Kinda refused to give him back to York even though York felt like he had a hole in his brain 'cause of it.
Didn't even like him. Delta, I mean. He pissed me off all the time. Always had him pulled. I didn't like sharing my head. But I was stubborn and 'cause York wanted him, 'cause I did everything I did to get a damn AI...
Yeah. Dumb choices.
But I gave him back, eventually. And York always bugged me into letting them talk, anyway. I mean, there was more to it than that, but...
[ It took her months to figure out why she was clinging to him despite all the reasons not to, but it worked out. She gave him back and she apologised and she spilled even more to York about her complicated feelings about North than she has Wash, today. She trusted him at the end, and he didn't forgive her but he did give her another chance. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Yeah. Fuck the Project.
[ The little nudge seems to both surprise her and not, a flash of tensing muscles before she just relaxes. She’s always been the kind to nudge, kick, punch, sling arms around friends, or she used to be. It takes longer, these days. ]
Both, I guess. I dunno. I— fuck, I don’t feel like I’m doing alright. Barely feel like a fucking— [ she sighs, rests her head on her knee with her gaze off to the side ] Barely feel like a person sometimes.
[ She feels like a shadow that somehow got left behind when the person casting it left. She feels like a hollow shell, empty because she built who she is around not being like her brother and doesn’t know how to define herself independent of that. Three decades where who you were was dependent on being who people didn’t want her to be.
God, she never even told North this. She told the York on the rig about how she didn’t know who she was on her own, but never her brother himself. This feels— weird, though it’s not entirely a bad weird. ]
no subject
he knows how important it is to listen, at least. especially with that sigh, the tone of her voice, and those specific words: barely feeling like a person. that's not something said lightly, and just from everything about her body language and her voice, he knows how much of a weight that has to be. he's quiet, for a few moments. ]
I remember how you used to fight. They always drilled you together, too, but whenever I saw you on your own -- I know that was always a thing for you. Got used to relying on always having someone there. [ a slight shrug. ] I didn't get any of that, from our spar just now.
[ it feels a little strange trying to give her assurances when he feels like he still doesn't know her all that well at all. it'd be easy to give empty platitudes, but wash doesn't want to do that, and that's one concrete observation he can give. another silence, this one a little longer, he stays leaned back against the wall, watching her. ]
I know it's really not the same, but. I think I can relate.
[ it's an offer, gentle, subtle. she's sharing a lot and talking about herself and how she feels and he can tell it's -- more than she would normally say. if she wants to go on talking, he'll keep listening and hearing her out, but if she wants to take that offer, wash can just talk about himself for a bit, instead. ]
no subject
…thanks. Worked on that with Brand—that friend I mentioned. Pushed me until I started adjusting. Guess that’s something.
[ Not a lot, but she appreciates what he’s trying to do. It did take a long time, a lot of sparring sessions, but that was how she and Brand spent most of their time together. Sparring. He understood what it was like to have someone that you spent your whole life with, how messy emotions around that could be. He had a lot less conflicting feelings about it, he had no urge to run, but it still let him understand.
She feels heavy, and when she lifts her head again she looks at him sidelong. ]
…‘cause of the whole— [ she nods vaguely at his head, she’s not sure if that’s more or less tactful than saying Epsilon outright ] —thing? Or—?
[ She’ll take the breather. This is all so— tricky, really. ]
no subject
maybe the difference is that this isn't about someone who wants to talk about it to help him, or anything. this is more about helping south, and even then -- that's not completely right. it's trying to make a connection, he guesses. either way its not people trying to help him, and that seems to matter a lot. go figure.
he nods. ] -- Epsilon. Yeah.
[ there is a distinct shift in his tone, subtle as it might be, a little more empty, a little more detached. for as practiced as he is, he still finds it safer to just try and keep more distance if he ever has to talk about it directly. ]
World of difference between an unstable AI fragment being shoved into your brain and having a brother, I know, but. [ a half-shrug. ] I spent a lot of time -- figuring out which things weren't me. Trying to find myself again, in all the mess.
[ he tips his head back against the wall again, lifting his gaze up towards the sky. it's darker out, now. ]
I don't know if I ever found it, honestly.
[ it took -- emptying himself out. hollowing himself completely. trying to build himself up from nothing again, trying to make sure it was the right things he was sliding into place and not something bleeding through . . . it was hard. still is. and while it's very, very different from anything south's been through, he still does kind of know what it's like to define himself wholly around what he isn't, and to struggle with feeling like himself at all. ]
no subject
[ It’s one of the things she never really got near, with the Wash on the rig. When he talked about things that had fucked him up, it was usually about the ways she’d fucked him up—not exactly surprising, that was rather more the point at the time. Drilling it into her head how fucked up everything she did was. Making her face it. ]
…fuck, they tore us all to fucking pieces.
[ The Project and their damn experiments. Psychological, AI based, they all fucked bits of them up. Broke them. Were any of them still who they were when they signed up, by the end? No. Probably not. But some of them sure got hit more literally than others, more violently. What happened to Wash was certainly on that end of the damn scale. ]
World of fuckin’ difference, yeah. Far fuckin’ worse, for one, but—
[ Another sigh. She shuffles so she can sit against the wall too, lets her raised leg fall to lay flat. ]
Yeah. Yeah it—
…I don’t think I know who I am, anymore. Don’t know if I ever fuckin’ will. [ she snorts, with empty amusement ] What a pair of fuckin’ wrecks.
no subject
he makes an amused sound, at her answer. just as hollow, but there is a genuine wry humor there. he hasn't gotten this far without learning to see some of the dark humor in the tragedy of everything that happened to him, to all of them. ]
I think in order to get this far, I kind of had to accept that being a wreck is just -- part of it. Always gonna be.
[ he isn't ever going to not be a fuckup, not be a mess, not be irreversibly damaged by everything he's been through. that's just the way it is. he can't really get past it. it's just kind of part of who he is, now. and any sense of who he is, even something like that, is worth holding onto. ]
It's just being a fucked up mess isn't the only thing. [ a pause. ] That's the idea, anyway. Can't say I'm good at it.
[ wash is still, fundamentally, mostly a fucked up washed up space marine. but he's learned he can also be other things. a mentor, a teacher. a very put-upon babysitter. he never stops being a damaged mess, never stops being a risk to the people around him because of it, but. there's other things. ]
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Not sure I’m there yet. The— not the only thing… thing.
[ The bad things she’s done often feel like all she really is, anymore. It should get easier, with less people around who know, but somehow it gets harder. She’ll never know if her brother would have one day forgiven her and— she feels like if she doesn’t hold onto those things, then it’s the same as ignoring them outright, pretending they didn’t happen, acting like she did nothing wrong. But she did everything wrong, and she knows that, and so she makes herself hold onto it.
That it might just be killing her a little more every day— well, doesn’t she deserve that? Ugggh. Emotions are stupid. ]
I can pretend, y’know. I can act— normal. Better. But I still don’t…
[ She gestures vaguely. There’s one or two people here who maybe genuinely care about her, and she can’t comprehend why. ]
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but there is a familiarity, a connection, they aren't complete strangers. and there is enough there that talking like this feels -- different, but not terrible. he's not forcing himself through it. ]
Takes time. [ is all he offers, still staring up at the darkening sky overhead. ] And you know what?
[ a pause. and he turns just enough to look at her. ]
I don't know if I'm there, either. Sometimes just feels like all I did was get -- better and better at playing pretend. You know?
[ he is a stunningly good liar and actor, whether or not south has had the pleasure of seeing it. it turns out that when he had that much truth shoved into his mind but had to act completely ignorant of it, those skills come about by necessity. sometimes he thinks he's lying to himself, too. another beat, and he looks back at the sky. ]
But wherever I am now, it's -- different. It's better.
[ and that has to be enough. ]
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Better. Yeah. [ she scrubs a hand over her face, breathes ] S'all about being better.
[ That was always what everyone on the rig, that Wash included, pushed her towards. Just doing better. That Wash once called her on refusing to even try to change because— "You think you're going to fuck up if you try to be something else, so you don't even try at all."
He wasn't wrong. It still took her another month and finding out about the experiment the Project did on her and North to start beginning to try. To hear all this from Wash is about the least surprising part of this interaction because she knows a little of how hard he had to push to get to where he is, because really the fact that Wash got as far as he has eventually became proof that she wouldn't be wasting her time trying. Even for all that they're different.
He wasn't the reason she finally tried to change, but he was certainly one of the catalysts in getting her there. So as strange as it is to be here, having this conversation, she's glad they can be. He's not that Wash, but there's still that common ground. ]
...started trying to be better for North, y'know. He was the first one I promised I'd try to do better with.
But this North— last time we talked, really talked, he said he barely fuckin' recognised me and he sounded— like he didn't like it? Or couldn't... believe it, maybe. 'cause it wasn't him that got through to me, 'cause he wasn't there.
Can't even blame him, considering how fuckin' long I spent lying to him about the Recovery thing. But that stung.
[ Dramatic sigh, a vague grabby hand. ]
Ugh, where's that alcohol you had? Swear I won't get ugly drunk.
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Please don't.
[ he means it nicely, though. enough of a playful lilt to his voice, even through the drawl. after she takes it from him he leans back, lifting a hand to knead at his temples, just thinking through what she's saying. wanting to be better for north, talking about this one, and. he gets what she's talking about, but it's still a bit to wrap his head around, since he hasn't experienced anything like that. someday he'll ask her more about these other versions of him, but he really prefers not to think about it too much, right now. ]
He's only human, I guess. [ finally, after a long pause. ] Probably would've been nice if he found it in him to be happier for you.
[ he leans forward, propping his elbows up on his knees as he turns to look at her again. ]
You said you started trying to be better for him, though. How about now?
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Scout's honour.
[ She flashes him a crooked grin, if only for a second; she was absolutely never a scout. She opens the bottle and takes a swig, wipes her mouth after she lowers it again.
It sure would've been nice, and maybe he'd have gotten there but she'll never know, now, she supposes. She's not sure if it'd be kinder to herself to tell herself they'd have figured it out, or to tell herself that it'd have all gone the way it did on the rig. Ended in them not even talking at all, in North unable to even look at her if he couldn't find it in him to forgive her. Which he never would, she was sure. ]
Now... guess it's for other you poor assholes who gotta put up with me. [ there's a wry little note to it ] And— y'know, for myself, I guess. I don't... I don't want to fuck my whole entire fuckin' life up over and over, y'know? Getting too old for that shit. Me in my twenties had far too much fuckin' energy doing that shit over and over.
[ She says that like it's a joke and it kind of is—it's not like she actually stopped once she turned thirty, all her worst actions came after—but she has had a bad habit of burning everything to the ground around her for one reason or another. Because she thought it was coming anyway, because something got too serious and she got scared, so on and so on.
Now she's thirty-three, older than her brother will ever be thanks to her own actions, both older and younger than she should be because of her own actions, and... she's tired. She's tired of everything going to hell. She can't control the world around her, but she can control herself. Mostly. ]
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Just -- maybe try to make that second part the first thing. [ a sigh, rubbing a hand through his hair as he leans back against the wall again. ] Sometimes you do the right thing, or -- some right things, anyway. For the wrong reasons.
[ though to be fair to wash, those wrong reasons were the main thing that kept him going for a long time. bone-deep anger, a bitterness in him that would never die out, spiteful and hateful and boiling into nothing less than the unfettered pursuit of any kind of vengeance, any kind of justice. he did it for vengeance, for his friends -- not often for himself. and even if he's reached a better place, now, after all these years, it's still something he struggles with. ]
Not that wanting to spare your friends the trouble is a bad reason, exactly. But other people -- can change. Can let you down. Won't always be what you need them to be. Or maybe they'll won't be there, anymore, through no fault of their own.
[ north. carolina. anyone else. ]
Changing for your own sake has got to be a good enough reason, in itself.
[ he blames himself for so much he knows isn't really his fault. finds it difficult to motivate himself for his own sake, finds it dedicate himself to others, instead. but he knows its not -- the best way to handle it. not really. ]
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Yeah. Yeah, you're not wrong. But fuck it's hard. Easier to like— tell myself other people deserve better from me than I deserve better from me? Y'know?
[ She gets the sense he might sort of get that, or something similar. She's not at a place where she can admit that maybe she kind of hates herself, where she can uncover that deep pool of self-loathing that's been filling itself up ever since the day she let North die and shot Wash in the back but has only gotten deeper since she stopped putting up a mask of not caring about what she did wrong.
She can't hate herself, she's gotten through life by aggressively putting herself first, with self-confidence and a 'fuck you, I don't care what you think' attitude—how can both those things exist in one person? Can they? Do they? ]
But I do— I do want to. I don't want to be that person. Fuck, I don't want to be that bitch that you shot, even though I know she was me. I'm not her anymore, it's...
[ She makes a vague noise and takes another swig. ]
Fuckin' universe hopping bullshit, man. Talk about a mindfuck.
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he might be able to hear some of that in her. but it's not for him to prod at, not unless she decides to push at it herself. he watches as she takes another swig, quiet. ]
I've done some pretty fucked up shit, too, you know.
[ no idea if she'd have ever learned about any of that from his other self. ]
I don't know if I'm not that person anymore. It's a little hard to find closure over something if you did if you can't -- own it.
[ a half-shrug, leaning back. ]
That's just me, though. We actually are different people. Maybe I'd think differently if I did a bit more universe-hopping, like you did.
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Yeah, I know. Not— y'know, details, outside of the whole shooting me in the face and blowing me up thing, but...
[ Bits and pieces. Things about how he was terrorising the simulation troopers before they apparently adopted him. It's not like she ever got the full story, but parts of it came up, especially as that Wash's head was still in that era of his life for a while for complicated reasons she still doesn't fully understand. ]
That's the thing, y'know. I did all that shit, I lived all that, I own that now. I was a fucking monster the way I acted, but— I got yanked before I died, y'know. I'm not the woman who took that bullet. The me that took that bullet would never have done half the things I've done since, y'know? She wouldn't have changed for fuckin' anyone.
[ Not that she had the chance, but she didn't have that chance precisely because she wouldn't have ever taken it. She just kept barrelling ahead until she made whatever dumb choice lead her to be in front of Wash that day. ]
Don't even know what to do with that, half the time. Not like I didn't deserve that bullet. Not like I don't, 'cause I still did that stuff, I still let my brother die and shot you in the back and all that other shit.
M'just... trying not to be someone who'd do it again. [ then firmer ] I'm not someone who'd do it again.
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he can admire that conviction in her voice, when she says that. he looks back at her, meeting her eye the whole time -- and nods, affirming. ]
You're not. [ a small, almost-smile. ] You should be proud of that much.
I'd hope that means something, coming from me.
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[ It's not the first time she's looked surprised by something he's said, today, and it might not end up being the last. Her expression softens a little with some sort of relief and she nods. ]
...yeah. Yeah, it does. Thanks, Wash.
[ She has to hold onto that conviction, she has to believe that she wouldn't turn into that person again. A part of her knows that if she was pushed hard enough, if enough went wrong, she might. She'll never be a perfect person, she'll never be palatable to most people, she'll never stop being a hot mess, not completely.
But if she doesn't tell herself that she won't fuck up that badly again, then she can never trust herself to do everything she needs to do to stop herself backsliding in the first place. Because if she could still do that, then what business does she have trying to make a life for herself? Because if she could still do it, then why shouldn't she just let someone shoot her again?
It's not that simple, and she knows it. She's sure Wash does too. None of this will ever be simple, and the way they approach their own bullshit is always going to be whatever it is that's going to get them, personally, by. ]
God. Fuckin'— look at us. [ she laughs, still not quite a truly humourful sound, but closer ] The fucked up leftovers of Project Freelancer, trying our best to not be as fucked up, talking and shit. Fucking pigs are gonna start flying next.
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[ a bit of a laugh there, though it's -- hollow. they've been talking about them, and that's good, cathartic. but there's other people who'd waltzed back into life that wash never thought he'd see again. maybe south is more used to that, with her other-world, but.
they're just gone again, now. and wash quiets down, tipping his head back again with a small sigh. ]
There are probably worse places to start from scratch, I suppose.
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Mm. [ an amused snort ] Fair fucking point.
[ The funny thing is she's really not, more used to it that is. Back on the rig, the only Freelancer who arrived after her and York was Carolina, and no one she knew ever really disappeared. Brand's partner Rune, did, but she didn't know Rune all that well and only had to deal with Brand's breakdown, not any emotional reaction of her own.
No one had ever vanished and as much as it hurt to have North right there with her but not talking to her, at the end, he was still there, alive. There was at least a certain sense of closure. Now there's just... empty space. ]
Worse places, but lots better places too. [ god, she was meant to go home, she was meant to skip death altogether and go live with Wash, Carolina and their sim troopers ] Not like we get to be picky, though.
[ She takes another swig from the bottle, then offers it his way. ]
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-- Can I ask you, though? [ just still staring at the sky overhead. it's well and truly dark out, now, with how long they've been up here since their spar. its nice. quiet. peaceful. ] That rig of yours. How many of us were around?
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[ Fair enough. She doesn't immediately take another sip but she rests it in her lap and taps her nails against the glass. Thinking, mentally counting. ]
From home, or just Freelancer? Seven total, five freelancers, six from Freelancer if you count Price.
[ A beat. ]
Actually, nine total if you count the AI. Delta and Theta came along.
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So -- York and North? Showed up there with their AI?
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Yup. [ she pops her lips on the p, but then— stalls ] Okay, well, actually... uh. I showed up with Delta, since y'know. You gave him to me before I bolted. York came after. Alone.
[ The way she holds herself shifts a little, gets tenser, and she takes another swig from the bottle again. She's always been a bit of an open book, unless she's very specifically trying not to be. ]
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How'd that turn out?
[ prompting but intentionally a very vague, open question. she can skip over as much as she wants, and even everything if it suits her. ]
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[ She takes a half minute of silence to consider, but, really, it's not the worst shit she's ever done, and it worked out eventually. Hell, she was on better terms with York than her brother, at the end. ]
Being, y'know, still a total bitch when I first got there I uh. Kinda refused to give him back to York even though York felt like he had a hole in his brain 'cause of it.
Didn't even like him. Delta, I mean. He pissed me off all the time. Always had him pulled. I didn't like sharing my head. But I was stubborn and 'cause York wanted him, 'cause I did everything I did to get a damn AI...
Yeah. Dumb choices.
But I gave him back, eventually. And York always bugged me into letting them talk, anyway. I mean, there was more to it than that, but...
[ It took her months to figure out why she was clinging to him despite all the reasons not to, but it worked out. She gave him back and she apologised and she spilled even more to York about her complicated feelings about North than she has Wash, today. She trusted him at the end, and he didn't forgive her but he did give her another chance. ]
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not me saying i wanted to finish this cleanly and then PROMPTLY FORGETTING
Relatable