He could see the tightness in those fingers, the strength, the barely contained frustration. Tucker could feel his heart being wrung out like a dishtowel; it wasn't fucking fair, Wash shouldn't be here, not like this. It was such bullshit.

And Tucker still felt like it was his fault; that wouldn't ever change, not in the deepening silence. And while some of the others wouldn't agree, he could feel it in the weight of some eyes when they turned towards him. They would never say it, but they didn't have to. The smile started to fade at the corner of his mouth, unable to shed this baggage.

But there was no way he was going to let Wash know how much he still hurt. He didn't need to worry about him; Wash only needed to focus on getting better.

Tucker looked in the bag instead of at his boyfriend. Maybe that was better. "There's some stuff from Caboose in here, too. And food from Grif; I didn't even have to steal it." He pulled out some swiss rolls and set them on the bed. "How are you feeling? Did they tell you how much longer you're stuck in the worst hotel ever?"