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They...

[Oh, don't get him wrong, he's still angry. There are still emotional impulses that are, sooner or later, going to get sublimated straight into misdirected anger. But for one blessed moment, it dissipates like smoke. Everything about him starts to relax, in a way. Go limp. Like it's a revelation that smacked him in the face.

They missed him. That hadn't even crossed his mind.]

You mean...Caboose missed me. Caboose missed me, and then decided to take something his two brain cells decided was the closest he could get, and...and, and he just tried to bring me back out of...

I mean, cuz nobody else would. Maybe--Tucker? Maybe Tuck--what happened to Tucker?

Not just Caboose. Tucker was...after what happened with Junior, they kind of made him this ambassador. He was out in the desert, with these Temples that belonged to the aliens. He was keeping enemies of the UNSC from taking the place for themselves.

[Boiling this down to a summary that that conceivably makes sense is a hell of a skill, and it's not Washington's best quality. Given his penchant for dramatics and generally cryptic bullshit, it's safe to say he's fucking terrible at it.]

[But he seems to have sensed that some of the tension has gone down, that it's a little less immediate. Ami starts to bump the top of her head against the backs of Church's knees.]

He...missed you too.

...He wasn't there. You didn't go and like, gather him up in your merry band.

[Absently, he reaches down to pat Ami. It's kind of nice? It's kind of nice to have something physical there. Annoying to try and interrupt, but-]

Not the Reds. They'd never miss a damn dirty Blue. Obviously.

You might be surprised.

[Of course, this is before Wash ran into Grif's fatigue and refusal to go along on yet another fucking adventure.]

All of them found you, eventually. All of them missed you, when you were gone. Enough for it to hurt. Enough for everyone to feel it for months after.

[It's somehow, simultaneously, the best and worst news he could've gotten. Great! He's loved and his presence is missed, just like it ought to be! But also, jesus fucking christ, did they actually...care? About him? Sure, the pickings are slim, but that seems like a poor choice.

Ami nudges again, more insistently, and there's a brief moment where he forgets himself. Where he is. Because he looks and snaps on instinct:] Caboose!

[...but it's just a confused and mildly alarmed tiger-plant. Wash is out of armor, looking as tired as he always sounded, looking like David. His friends missed him and then replaced him with a crazier version of himself. He's a dead AI. All of them are dead. There's nothing left of Alpha.

There's nothing left of himself.

Embarrassed, he looks back at Wash. Doesn't acknowledge the mistake. Just a slip. Wash has had plenty of those, hasn't he? Wash who won't die, can't die.]

That's a lie. [It's not. He knows he's not. Easier, though, to make the accusation, angry, make it angry.] I'm--I'm the asshole, I'm Blood Gulch's Next Top Asshole, I'm--I'm detestable, I just yelled at everyone, and sure, I'm important, but not, like...not like that, right? [Alpha was the incident that led to everything where it was. More than important.] What about you?

[Ami doesn't seem to understand the significance of the slip-up, but Wash...his jaw tightens and there's a moment where he thinks Church is trying to resteady himself but he's not sure such a thing is even possible anymore. Have either of them ever had a moment in their lives where they were anything but unsteady?]

Church? [He already hates it - the note of concern that draws the name out, the way he knows to call him Church, the way it's going to sound fake because it sounds too nice.]

You were their friend. They're loyal. They don't...give up on people, on their people. And - what about me?

[Church waves a hand. Wave away the concern. It's fine. It's fine, it's okay, just a slip, we're not talking about it.]

I mean--you. Did you--?

[No. Why the fuck would Wash have ever missed him? He didn't talk to Epsilon because he didn't want to almost die again, and the short while he knew Wash, they were at each others' throats. Besides. They're here now. Better or worse.

He moves for the door.]

Never--nevermind, it doesn't matter.

...

[He has no idea how to answer that.]

[Does he? Can he? Does he have the right to say that he...considering their relationship, the scramble of uncertainty and back-and-forth and constant sniping and then outright hatred and denial and then, finally, release - does he have any right to say that he missed him?]

I'm sorry.

For what I did to you.

And I would've taken it back if I could.

[He stops in the doorway but doesn't turn.]

Stop, Wash, stop, just--just fuckin' stop, okay!

[It's good to hear, but he can't. He can't hear it right now. His brain's sitting in a tire rolling down a very rocky hill while buzzing on a pot of coffee, everything's running overtime to process and while he wears his emotions on his metallic sleeve, he's never been good with them.

An apology's a good place to start. Rather than a good place to end.]

You can't take it back. It's done. And no god damn amount of my being here is going to change what happened! It means even if I could leave, I can't, because going home means I will cease to exist!

So congratulations, Wash--you've exorcised all your demons and busted all your ghosts! And now this ghost is gonna go fuck off and make himself useful!

[He needs air and space and maybe a place to yell and kick things without people giving a fuck. He steps out, only to return a few short moments later.]

And I'm stealing your cat! C'mon, Ami, let's get you some sun.

You think that's why I wanted -

[No. No. Shut up. Shut up and just - ]

[Closes his eyes, clenches his fists, shuts his mouth. Straightens, and lets him go. There's nothing he can say or do to make it better. The most he can give Church now is the one thing this conversation hasn't allowed, and that's space.]

[So he stays quiet, and lets him go.]

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