No. No, it really wasn't okay, but Wash was trying, so Tucker did, too.
He pulled his hands away from where one was picking at the armrest of the chair, the other spinning the engagement ring round and round and round; that's the one that he gave to Wash, his left. Red-threaded eyes looked at him, rolled, then looked at their hands instead. It was easier to look at that. It was easier not to see how his gaze were going to change when he knew the truth.
Dr. Grey would kill him for telling it, but Tucker knew Wash, knew that not knowing would just piss him off more. And he was drugged to hell and back, so he might have repeat this a few more times; whee. That would be fun, like a beautiful version of insanity where he kept repeating the same thing over and over agai--
"I don't know how much you remember." The words started slow and he raised his head enough to look at the bandages around his neck. "That dickcheese Temple had you down in this creepy Nightmare On Freelancer Street shit, locked down in your armor with Carolina." Armor that wasn't here, wasn't even allowed near the room. He and Grey agreed on that one.
"Locus - I know, right? - came and got you guys out, but you were fucked up pretty bad. I don't know how many days you were down there, but...you weren't making any sense. I don't even think you recognized me half the time, and it scared the hell out of me."
Terrified. Pissed. A mixture of both. A major piece of the puzzle.
"We were locked up, too, and that Walmart version of a Bond villain came down, yelled at Caboose, and showed us all the message he, like, spliced up to make it sound like a Church distress call." Church. Dammit. That burned, too close to losing Epsilon and his grief had swallowed him even when he tried to bury it, a beast beneath the surface.
"I was pissed, Wash! I was so fucking pissed! At them, at me! They nearly fucking killed you and Carolina, they yelled at Caboose, they just basically killed Church all over again, they got Sarge to turn against us, and they tricked me. Again! Just like Felix! It was Felix all over again, only worse because this asshole was bad at it and I still fell for it! Why the fuck did I do it? Why the fuck did I believe anything he said!?"
His hand was shaking in Wash's, trembling. He wanted to pull it away, wanted to pull back. He started to because this was where it got worse.
"So fuck stealth, I stormed in and started shooting. Temple and the assholes weren't even there; it was just some idiot zealots. I ran in for no reason because I just wanted to make someone pay and I didn't give a fuck about anything or anyone else." The shaking started to slip into his voice, edging along the words, and his eyes watered again. Fuck. He hated this part of the story.
no subject
He pulled his hands away from where one was picking at the armrest of the chair, the other spinning the engagement ring round and round and round; that's the one that he gave to Wash, his left. Red-threaded eyes looked at him, rolled, then looked at their hands instead. It was easier to look at that. It was easier not to see how his gaze were going to change when he knew the truth.
Dr. Grey would kill him for telling it, but Tucker knew Wash, knew that not knowing would just piss him off more. And he was drugged to hell and back, so he might have repeat this a few more times; whee. That would be fun, like a beautiful version of insanity where he kept repeating the same thing over and over agai--
"I don't know how much you remember." The words started slow and he raised his head enough to look at the bandages around his neck. "That dickcheese Temple had you down in this creepy Nightmare On Freelancer Street shit, locked down in your armor with Carolina." Armor that wasn't here, wasn't even allowed near the room. He and Grey agreed on that one.
"Locus - I know, right? - came and got you guys out, but you were fucked up pretty bad. I don't know how many days you were down there, but...you weren't making any sense. I don't even think you recognized me half the time, and it scared the hell out of me."
Terrified. Pissed. A mixture of both. A major piece of the puzzle.
"We were locked up, too, and that Walmart version of a Bond villain came down, yelled at Caboose, and showed us all the message he, like, spliced up to make it sound like a Church distress call." Church. Dammit. That burned, too close to losing Epsilon and his grief had swallowed him even when he tried to bury it, a beast beneath the surface.
"I was pissed, Wash! I was so fucking pissed! At them, at me! They nearly fucking killed you and Carolina, they yelled at Caboose, they just basically killed Church all over again, they got Sarge to turn against us, and they tricked me. Again! Just like Felix! It was Felix all over again, only worse because this asshole was bad at it and I still fell for it! Why the fuck did I do it? Why the fuck did I believe anything he said!?"
His hand was shaking in Wash's, trembling. He wanted to pull it away, wanted to pull back. He started to because this was where it got worse.
"So fuck stealth, I stormed in and started shooting. Temple and the assholes weren't even there; it was just some idiot zealots. I ran in for no reason because I just wanted to make someone pay and I didn't give a fuck about anything or anyone else." The shaking started to slip into his voice, edging along the words, and his eyes watered again. Fuck. He hated this part of the story.
"I wasn't keeping an eye on you. I should've. A leader should fucking know where his people are. Shit, your fiancé should know you are! But you were delirious and I didn't stop you and you wandered out and--"
Wash, get down!
"-some asshole shot you through the neck."