Chokepoint

Fourth Quarter: The Night Before the Big Game

He thought there'd be more blood.

His eyes were locked onto the hilt of the blade, almost too terrified to look away, like it might spring out if he took his attention away, letting all that precious crimson fluid escape its vessel to leave it drained and lifeless.

York trembled as he tried to grasp into reality and pull himself out of the daze. Wash was lying in front of him with a knife buried into his side, his muzzle screwed up into a pained grimace. His eyes fluttered and York's heart nearly stopped. This was all wrong. He was the jock, he was the one who took the fire and shrugged off the blows and got his partner safely through the battle.

He should have been the one curled up on the ground, breathing shallowly and trying to cling to consciousness.

"Y-York..."

York snapped out of his reverie and quickly dropped to a knee as he inhaled sharply and hesitantly reached out toward the knife. But Wash whimpered and shook his head. "D-don't. Combat training. Leave it in."

How the hell did he remember that a time like this?

Because he was Wash, that's how.

York swallowed thickly but nodded. "It's...it's okay, Wash. We're gonna get you back, and you're gonna be okay," he whispered, urging himself to believe it. He carefully slid his arms under his companion's slight frame and then winced. There was some of that missing blood. "Goddammit, Wash...what were you thinking?" he mumbled while gingerly lifting his combat buddy and hating every agonized twitch from his little body.

"It's...it's what friends do," Wash murmured before groaning as tears streamed down his cheek in response to the knife shifting slightly. "Oh god...York, I don't...I don't wanna die, not for this stupid mission..."

"You aren't, little buddy," York replied, fighting back the strain in his voice as he tried not to hyperventilate. "Just hang in there." He held Wash close to his broad chest and broke into a run back to their truck. "Just hang in there..."

York fidgeted at the doorway. He didn't know if he was ready for this.

He'd been here before; hell, at Specials, he'd been on both sides. That time David broke his arm on the obstacle course, or when Gabriel had ended up on an IV drip thanks to dehydration. He remembered David awkwardly bringing him some bottles of beer, thinking he was doing his battle buddy a favor -- the nurse hadn't been very amused, and Gabriel had mocked him, too.

Stupid. He'd done a lot of stupid things to the little guy. And he was sure some of it had helped bring him out of his shell, helped toughen him up a little. But he also knew he'd gone too far more often than not. And he'd waited far too long to start defending him from the others, because it was easier to join them than to stand in front of them. They all adored him, they all looked up to him.

But David respected him, and treated him like he was normal. Half of their little team of two, no matter how much of the heavy lifting he did. David never let himself coast, no matter how easier things would have been for him. And that was something Gabriel...and now, as York...would forever appreciate. Even if they went their separate ways soon, York knew he'd been lucky to share the time he had with Wash, that he'd been a better companion than he'd initially realized for those six quarters.

He took a breath and then pushed through the door as he did his best to find an honest smile. It was difficult, though -- he hated the sanitary smell, the cold, disinfected reality of the medical bay. He'd never been to an actual hospital growing up, but he imagined he'd hate them, too. Everything felt lifeless and hollow, like you needed to fight to keep your spirit intact even as people tried to save your life. He'd never understood why these places couldn't be more positive, have something to try and lift the mood. He looked down at his hands for a moment. He could do something about that. Maybe next time he'd bring something.

"Mmm..."

He blinked and looked up to see David in the only occupied bed of the ward, grimacing and shifting under the thin sheet that covered his skinny frame. The sight of his companion brought a real smile to his muzzle, far truer than any one he could have painted on. "Hey, Dav...er. Wash."

Wash's eyelids cracked open and there was silence for a few seconds as they stared at each other from across the room. York's paws froze in place and an alien nervousness twisted through his veins; he could still hear Wash's words, still see the tears in his eyes, still feel the burst of air from the bathroom door slamming shut. Less than a day since the blowout, since they'd both essentially decided friendship wasn't a goddamn option.

York hated that almost as much as he hated seeing the little guy laid out on a gurney. Not an hour had gone by since that conversation that he didn't regret what he'd said, what he'd thought.

But now he was empty, without even a bad joke prepared to break the ice. He wasn't sure he could deal with Wash giving him those eyes again, wordlessly implying the betrayal that York shouldn't have cared about...but did, and more than any he'd ever contemplated before. He'd hurt Wash and in turn been hurt, himself. And there hadn't been time to think about it during the mad race back across Stigma, the gas pedal never leaving the floorboard as he threw out every caution and piece of protocol to get Wash back to the Freelancer Headquarters.

"Are...are you okay, Gabriel?"

York's heart jumped and he smiled despite himself. This was his little buddy, alright. "I'm...I'm fine, um. Wash. Geezus, how are you?"

Wash mumbled into his own chest. "Sorry. The drugs are. Doing things. The Director already got on me for using your, uh, name during the debriefing."

York blinked, though he wasn't entirely surprised. "You've already talked to him?"

"Y-yeah, both of them, before the surgery."

"Before the...christ, I'm...uh. I'm sorry," York mumbled as he took a careful step closer. He'd already met with the Director and the Counselor, too, but he hadn't expected to hear they'd have come to Wash so quickly. He supposed that was just a part of Freelancer he'd need to get used to.

"I'm sorry if I worried you," Wash murmured, tearing his eyes away from York to focus on his hands as they fiddled silently atop his chest. "I'm sure I distracted you with...things, and the way I acted, and I know the mission got a bad rating with how things went at the end."

York glanced at the floor as Wash continued to ramble, and something gripped him deep inside. "Wash...Wash, stop. Stop for a sec." The smaller chupa trailed off, his gaze hesitantly shifting back to York. York wasn't sure what to do with it and he rubbed the back of his neck for a few seconds. "I didn't come here to get an apology from you, man. It's alright."

"Oh." Wash looked back at his fingers again before asking in a voice that was terrifyingly genuine: "Why...why are you here?"

York laughed, though it was more sheepish than he hoped. "Oh, uh...c'mon, you know. You're my battle buddy, right? Of course I'm gonna come see you."

It felt like the right response at first...until a moment or two passed while Wash shifted and then nodded quietly. "Oh. Okay, I appreciate that, Ga...I, I mean, York."

"Aw, it's fine, little buddy, it's just us in here, it's okay if you wanna call me--"

"No...no, no, this." Wash inhaled slowly. "This is our life now, right? I'm Washington. And you're York."

"Yeah." York scratched at the side of his muzzle as he shifted his weight. "Yeah, that's right." He smiled lamely before inching closer again. Wash didn't look up this time, still fidgeting with his claws and worrying the sheet that covered him. "Hey, um. We might not have as bad of a rating as you think, you know."

Wash glanced up at this and it lifted York's spirits a bit. "Oh. Uh...really?"

"Yeah!" York scooted a few feet closer, hovering near the hospital bed with the same awkward smile. "The paperwork you grabbed before they showed up and the fighting started had a lot of contacts and shipment information and stuff on it. Only some of it was...um..." York shuffled his paws again. "You know. Unreadable from the. Uh. Blood."

Wash smiled, although even York could tell it was forced. "Heh. S-sorry for...bleeding. Stupid blood."

York did his best to smile back. "Yeah. Stupid blood. You gotta try harder to keep that inside."

"Heh, yeah. I'll, um. I'll tell my next partner to have some extra on stand-by. Just in case."

York laughed, but hated it. Why did that bother him so much? He'd all but told himself he was ready to move on, to find someone who was better suited for him, someone who would treat him the way he deserved.

...That was a stupid question, because he already knew the answer. He didn't want to be treated the way everyone else did. He wanted to matter to his partner, not simply be admired. And six quarters of hell had done a lot to build that bond. What York didn't know, however, was what Wash wanted. What if he wanted a new partner? What if he really was just too tired of the teasing, the hazing, the constant comparisons to someone who came across as better in every way?

"Hey, uh...Wash?"

Wash turned his eyes to him again and York instantly lost his train of thought. All he could see was the hilt of the knife again, the way Wash had stared up at him in such pain, without a sliver of blame in his twisted expression of agony. He'd jumped in the way of the attack without hesitation, and it wasn't like the time in Specials. He wasn't defending York while York fumbled with his gear or some other rookie mistake...no, York should have been ready, should have seen it coming. He'd been too busy thinking of how to tell Wash he was ready for a new partner, too busy wondering how he'd ask Carolina if she was ready to team up with someone.

He'd been distracted, and his fr...his companion had paid the price for him. Wash had covered his back despite everything they'd said to each other, despite how York had snubbed him when he'd been baring his soul and all but begging for a bit of kindness.

The thought of it happening again made York uncomfortable. It didn't feel fair, and the idea of owing so much while he contemplated pushing the guy away was nauseating.

"York?"

He blinked and then smiled faintly when he realized Wash was still looking up at him. "Uh...yeah, sorry, Wash," he mumbled. "I was just gonna ask if...uh." He glanced down and then gave a sheepish laugh while reaching out to grasp lightly into the railing of the gurney. "Um. Does it...hurt?"

That wasn't at all what he wanted to ask, but god, he couldn't bring himself to be strong enough for the real question. Wash seemed to realize it, too, but the little guy did a formidable job keeping his reaction neutral. His amber eyes drifted away from York; York wasn't sure if he was glad for it or not. "I...I guess. But it's not too bad." He sighed and then gripped into the bedsheet again. "Hey, I should...I should probably get some rest. But I appreciate you coming by, York."

He thought he'd be glad to be excused, but...no, that wasn't the emotion he felt. York shifted his weight again and took a step backward before blurting out: "I'll come see you again tomorrow, Wash."

Wash blinked and then glanced at him long enough to reveal his confusion. "I...oh. I-I mean, you don't need to, York. I'm sure you'll be busy, don't worry about it."

"No, no, seriously, little buddy," York mumbled stubbornly. "I'll see you tomorrow...okay? Give you my word." Normally when he said that, he received smiles and excited nods. Signs that people were thrilled to have his word, an indicator that they were grateful for the promise.

Wash only looked down and then closed his eyes. "Okay."

...And that was it.

It hurt, and then it hurt more when he realized Wash hadn't simply lost trust in him -- York had helped him lose it. He opened his muzzle to emphasize the promise, but Wash had already shifted away from him. He wasn't able to turn onto his side, but it was clear all the same as he closed his eyes and tilted away from the tan chupa. York licked his lips silently but then forced himself to turn around and walk out of the room.

Words weren't going to fix anything this time.

He glanced at the door when it opened, a smile hesitantly waiting at the corners of his muzzle...

...only to fade when he saw it was the nurse again.

He wasn't upset, at least. Or...rather, he wasn't surprised. It might not have even been York's fault -- the guy was talented, a natural. There was no way they'd just let him sit around without putting him on more missions, or into more specialized training. That was just common sense.

And he really had no right to complain, either. York had been there to yank him out of the fire multiple times while they were combat buddies in Specials. One time returning the favor wasn't that big of a deal. And on top of it, it wasn't like he was completely alone. Connie had visited him earlier that day, which had been exceptionally nice. Even if he felt a little silly with how little he could think to say to her. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to talk, it just...it wasn't easy. But it had still been soothing to have her there for a little while.

She was off on a mission now, though. Said she'd probably be a week at least -- she and her team were off to Episemon for a mock infiltration exercise with the Blue Army. But the brief visit had still been pleasant...something that had helped make the rest of the day seem slightly less awful.

The first day had been his only opportunity to try and recover in peace, apparently, because today had been filled with tests and additional interviews with the Counselor, with enough physical and mental prodding alike that Washington regretted waking up from the damn stab wound. Feeling nothing in his unconsciousness had been better than the endless poking, than the creeping loneliness.

He hated being back to that, of all things. It made him feel selfish for wanting contact, and it made him think how much better things would be if he tried to forgo those connections in the first place. It wasn't like he had a wealth of friends to keep him company, so what was the point of bothering to try and change that? If it was easier to simply work alone, well. That was better than feeling lonely all the time.

He turned silently to one side, anticipating the jab of the syringe that had become commonplace now -- every few hours, the nurse came by to poke him with another one. Sometimes it numbed the pain, sometimes it enhanced it or made it feel like something different. At first she'd at least attempted the pretense of friendly conversation, but it didn't take long for Washington to recognize it as exactly that. Just a front, the basic instinct to use basic social convention to diminish an awkward situation.

At least she'd seemed to realize it was pointless, since their most recent exchanges had been a gesture to roll to one side, a quick stab of the needle, sometimes a brief pass of an alcohol swab if she was feeling generous. It was regular, he supposed, and regularity was nice, like a soothing blanket or a pair of arms around him that offered comfort he wasn't getting from anywhere else.

But the jab didn't come. Instead he heard the shuffle of paws followed by her confused -- and then frustrated -- voice. "What is...excuse me, what the fuck is all this??"

He slowly turned his head to glance over his shoulder with a frown before widening his eyes a bit. He saw a green pair of pants, surrounded by a bunch of foil balloons and what looked like a bouquet of flowers. "Uh...gifts?? To help my buddy feel better! Also give this place some life, it's depressing as heck!"

"This is a medical ward, not a fucking preschool," she snarled before suddenly leaning back in surprise as a handsome face shoved past the balloons and offered a winning grin. "Th-these things aren't allowed," she insisted, although the slight flush wasn't difficult to spot.

Washington blinked. "Y-York?"

"Hey, little buddy!" he called out before peering back at the nurse. "Now, now, such a pretty face shouldn't be in the company of such ugly words!" She huffed and then stared as he leaned down to neatly grab one of the flowers between his teeth and offer it to her with just the right amount of waggling eyebrows.

She grumbled and then reached up to snatch the flower, shifting slightly before squinting at York. "They're going to all be thrown out when the janitor comes by, but. Whatever." She then shot a sour look at Washington. "Fine, go ahead -- I'll come back later for the goddamn shot. Don't enervate the patient."

"Oh, don't worry, I won't! I'd much rather enervate you," York replied cheerfully, causing her to twitch and then huff again in what was probably meant to look like protest. She eyed his bare chest for a moment, then smirked and excused herself from the room with the flower held against her chest. York exhaled, then smiled across the room at Washington. "Man, her bedside manner sucks, huh?"

Washington smiled faintly despite himself as his eyes skimmed the six or eight balloons, and what had to be at least two dozen flowers. "York, what...what the hell." He rubbed at his own arm for a moment, trying not to continue, but losing the battle. "I...thought you weren't coming by. It was getting late."

York grinned sheepishly and crossed the room, carefully stepping around the empty gurneys as the mass of balloons made it difficult for him to see. "Heh, hey, gimme a break! You know how far I had to drive to find a balloon-flower-combo shop? Also how hard it is to find a balloon-flower-combo shop?"

Washington shook his head -- he hadn't even expected to see York at all. This was...this was a nice surprise. He took a moment to look at the balloons as York approached with a half-smile. 'Get Well Soon', that was expected.

...'Sorry For Your Loss' was a little weird. But not as strange as... "...'It's a Girl!'?" Washington read aloud with a tilt of his head and an amused smile. "Really?"

"Hey, look! I, uh. I tried, okay?!" York complained as he stood at the side of the bed, then quickly tied the cluster of balloons to the railing. "It wasn't exactly a big store and uh. Limited choices." He cleared his throat and held up the flowers before placing them across Washington's chest with a dumb grin. "There we go."

...They were almost enough to dwarf his slight frame, and Washington smiled despite himself again as the floral scent washed over him. It was sweet, but it was also admittedly much nicer than the sanitized smell that normally permeated the room. "York, you...you really didn't have to do all this."

"Well, obviously I didn't have to, but. Battle buddy!" he replied with a shrug and a small smile.

Washington reached up to lift the heavy bouquet for a moment. "Uh...yeah. Battle buddy." Yes, it bothered him. And fucking hell, he wished it didn't. He hated the feeling of...wanting. He'd spent his whole life wanting and it got exhausting. He didn't know if it was better or worse that what he craved wasn't material, at least. "York, this is really nice, it is," he mumbled while letting the flowers drop back onto his chest. "I just don't want you to feel like you're...obligated to come see me, I know you're busy and have other things going on. I should only be here for another couple days, then..."

"Well, then I'll be here for a couple more days, too," York replied obstinately. Washington looked up at him briefly, but York's face wasn't goofy. He looked serious despite the smile. "Hey, look, I...I want to apologize."

"It's okay, the balloons are nice and--"

"No, no, you..." York sighed and then dragged an uncomfortable-looking chair close as Washington fidgeted a bit. "You dork," he murmured, but it didn't make Washington grumble this time. "I haven't been great at being honest with you lately."

Washington fell silent and looked away for a moment, but forced himself to gaze back at York eventually. He didn't want to interrupt, regardless of how awkward he felt with the big guy flashing such a pained expression.

"Um. Look, I...I uh, I suck at this," York muttered, rubbing a hand through his mane. "But I want you to know that I act the way I do...the way I have since. Hell, since we met at the start of Specials. I've acted that way because it's...what I do to get by. Which I know sounds stupid because, yeah, Gabe's so great, Gabe has all the coolest friends and hottest girls on his arm and..." He shrugged a bit as his hands dropped into his lap. "I'm not gonna lie and say I hate that. It's nice to have that, to have everyone always looking up to you and telling you how great you are."

Washington grimaced and shifted a bit. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to relate to that. But...if this was what York wanted to talk about, then. So be it.

"I...do that because things weren't always that way," York continued slowly. "I grew up in a pretty rough way. My family struggled to get by and we spent a lot of nights outdoors. Dad had some old connection that kept him out of combat, but..." He sighed and smiled a bit. "Didn't keep him out of much else. Having a 'connection' didn't mean much if you also never had a job or much of a damn to give your family. And I decided pretty young that I was better off on my own. So I hit the streets and I learned I was good at talking to people."

He smiled again, and Washington studied it for a few seconds. It was tinged with melancholy, but it was hard to miss what was also some kind of...fondness. "Really good at it. And I had a knack for getting into places I wasn't supposed to, and. Spent a couple years getting by with hopping between people's beds, breaking into houses that looked abandoned or at least empty, stealing a car or...seven." He looked down at his hands and the smile remained. "That's actually how I got into Specials. I don't know if I told you all the details, little buddy -- I, uh. I never went through Basic."

"What? How?" Washington blinked and was almost upset -- of course that had been easy for this stupid jock, too. Except...nothing about his childhood sounded easy, now that he knew some details. Washington wanted to be jealous, but he understood better now, at least. Gabriel had gotten a taste of something better and...never wanted to let go of it. How could he blame him for that?

"I, uh. I stole a really nice car one day, took the cops on...shit. Must been thirty, forty minutes of a high-speed chase through the badlands in Stigma." Now his smile really was wistful. "Jumped like...four barricades at top speed, it's a miracle I walked away. The car didn't look so great, though, and obviously the only place I walked was right into prison."

Washington was staring wordlessly at this point, unconsciously clutching the flowers to his chest. "You...geezus, how did that lead to being put in Specials? Some kind of plea deal?"

York smirked. "You could say that. The guy who owned the car was a spec-ops recruiter. He was my one visitor and. He said he'd get me directly into Specials if I could break out of the place."

Washington frowned. "Huh. I've heard Stigma prisons are no joke, how did you..."

The look on York's face made his eyes widen a bit. "Heh. Well, one of the guards was just a little lonely and she let herself get a little too attached to one of the inmates, and he just happened to waltz right out with her keys." He winked as Washington sighed but smiled a bit despite himself. "Whoever that suave, sexy guy was, I sure owe him big."

"I...I can't believe it, that's...ugh. I should be mad at you," Washington murmured as he dragged a thumb along the paper jacket of the bouquet. "You're lucky." He saw York glance up at him and he kept talking before York could interrupt. "I...I don't mean that in a bad way, though. It sounds like the life you had before, it wasn't so great. And I'm sure this was finally a chance to be out of that, to be somewhere new, and somewhere better."

"It was," York replied quietly. "I mean. You saw how it was for me at Specials. And here, too. I was just immediately on top of the world. No longer the dirty street kid using his charm and greasy fingers to try and find a roof over my head every night. I never wanted to be there again, I felt like I was actually worth something, that my life meant something." He met Washington's gaze, and those green eyes dug deeper into his soul than he knew how to process at the moment. "Problem was I took it out on guys like you." The smile grew faint again. "Hell. Almost exclusively on you because...you were my combat buddy, and I kept convincing myself it was fine, and that you weren't actually gonna be that upset, that you'd bounce back and be stronger for it and...yeah."

Washington sighed quietly but didn't feel the acid on his tongue. "It...it sucked, York. But it's not like I don't get it. And I don't even think I blame you. Even if you were just behaving that way because it was a front for whatever you were scared of, because you didn't want to look weak or soft, I...I get it. At the end of the day, we're just so different, though. You don't fear the same stuff I do, and you're making the most of this new chance you've been given." Ironically the words made him feel better, even if he tasted that loneliness coming back. There was a small bit of relief to take from understanding York better, and to seeing the guy overcome what must have felt like impossible odds. Odds that Washington was all too familiar with feeling stacked against himself.

York was silent, though, leaving Washington to shift his weight a bit on the bed and then finally murmur again: "York. I forgive you, I do. We both said some things the other night in that motel room and..."

"You weren't wrong," York interrupted gently, looking down at his hands as they clasped together in his lap. "I, I mean. When you said that you should have known better. I've been a jerk to you and it...I know it made it harder for you to see anything past that." He sighed and Washington felt an honest wave of regret floating off his companion. "But it did still hurt me, too. I'm not blaming you, because I get it. But it still hurt because I didn't want to treat you that way, to have you see me that way."

Washington looked away as well, focusing his gaze on one of the flowers as he picked silently at the petals. "It was kind of hard not to, York." He hesitated, then added slowly, "I...just wanted a friend. I needed a friend, and it really...really hurt when you threw that away to just treat me like the...weak, little outcast again, who just needed to toughen up and stop being a baby."

York was silent again and Washington loathed the pang he felt. He didn't dare look up at his massive companion because he'd seen just how soulful his eyes could be. And he didn't want his resolve to break. York's voice made him close his eyes in fear of cracking. "Wash...David. Can't we still be friends?"

Oh, how he just wanted to say yes. But what came with that? What potential pain did that carry for his future? Was he just going to have his emotions dashed all over a shitty motel carpet again? He looked away, warring internally and trying to form the right words...only to be interrupted by the nurse's voice cutting into the room.

"Okay, seriously, you need to go, he needs his injection and I need to feed him dinner."

Washington and York both looked up as she stormed into the room, even if her eyes lingered briefly on York. But apparently her annoyance with having her job interrupted was greater than whatever amount of flustering York could offer up. York huffed quietly. "Look, we're just having a chat and--"

"Now," she interjected flatly, gesturing to the door with one hand. "Out."

York grumbled but then gave a small smile at Washington. Washington felt his chest tighten -- he hadn't meant to leave York dangling, but. He still didn't know what to say. "Hey, little buddy -- I'll see you again tomorrow, okay?"

"It isn't necessary, he's doing fine," the nurse replied drolly. "Now leave or I'll let the Director know you're getting in the way of recovery efforts."

He huffed again, though he met Washington's eyes briefly and nodded. Washington smiled faintly but allowed a single nod back before he turned away and pulled up his shirt to clear a path for the nurse and her sharp jabbing. As he listened to York's heavy steps out of the room, he wasn't sure if he wanted him to come back again. But considering the way he didn't even feel the needle sliding into his hide, he knew if nothing else that the guy was...a nice distraction. And maybe it'd be worth listening to him, just a little more.

York saw the nurse coming out of the doorway just as he turned the corner and he widened his eyes before swiftly spinning into a nearby room. Man she hadn't been happy when he stood her up earlier in favor of spending time with Carolina instead. He was hoping she'd be more understanding that he was just trying to stay on her good side so he could hang out with his little buddy, but apparently not.

He held his breath as the tik-tik-tik of her toe-claws moved past him, exhaling as they faded down the other direction before he grinned to himself. Heh. This was kind of like being on a secret mission, wasn't it? But instead of rescuing some hot chick from a drastic lack of hot York-time, he was rescuing his little buddy from boredom...which as far as he was concerned, was still pretty sweet!

As he poked his head out to check that the coast was clear, however, he couldn't help but think of when he'd visited twenty or thirty hours ago. He had lots of friends, so why was this one making him so anxious? But the answer didn't really matter, because he just knew it did make him anxious, and he was determined to make things right. Or at least go down trying.

The sight of his bulky frame tip-toeing quickly down the hall must have been hilarious, not that anyone was there to see it. Because he was so damn sneaky, of course! He smiled to himself as he approached the door to the medbay, glancing in both directions again before letting himself in with a cheerful whistle. Super Suave Agent York was on the case.

Even he was a little surprised at how quickly Wash brightened when he turned his head to see him. York beamed himself. "Hey, little buddy!" He blinked and tilted his head. "Aw, where'd all the balloons go?"

Wash scowled before gesturing toward the trash can, where a visible pile of deflated, punctured bits of foil rested. "I guess they were...'distracting' or something." He half-smiled and jerked his head to where a few flowers from the bouquet rested in a glass of water. "Got to keep a couple of those, at least."

"Haw, well, at least they let ya have some color in here," York replied while trying to repress his excited smile. "Hey, so...what are they feeding you?"

Wash immediately made a face. "Ugh. Ugh, it's. It's pretty bad, it's...I, I mean, I don't want to complain, but I'm pretty sure the slop we got at Specials was better than this stuff. I think they're just blending everything for me and I don't get why. My teeth are fine, the knife didn't fuck up any of my digestive system, so..."

York failed to keep his grin hidden any longer as he shoved a hand into his hip pouch and produced a glistening off-pink apple. "Tadaaaa! Look what I smuggled outta the cafeteria for ya!"

Wash's eyes widened and he gave a genuine gasp. "Is...is that..."

"It's an apple, yeah!" York beamed and tossed it over to his buddy, who barely got his hands out from his sheet fast enough to catch it. He was tickled already -- Wash looked close to tears as he clutched the apple in both hands and then stared up at him again. "Heh, I mean...it's just an apple, buddy, no big d--"

"Oh my god, York, you're a lifesaver," Wash mumbled before he took a big bite of the apple and groaned in pleasure. "Holy shit...it's so good..."

York blinked a few times but grinned again as he continued to fish around in the pouch. "Geez, dude, if I knew this was the way to your heart, I woulda asked my question yesterday after feeding you some of this junk..." He pulled out a few carrots and several stalks of celery. "I uh. I sorta thought you'd be offended by all this...green stuff, but." A chuckle slipped out before he paused when he saw the way Wash had hesitated mid-chomp to look up at him. "Um...u-unless you don't actually like it and I'm remembering things wrong like a jackass..."

Wash smiled a bit after a moment and gave a tiny shake of his head. "No. No, you're fine, York." He looked down at the apple in his hand, then spun it quietly in his palm. "I...your question yesterday. I didn't mean to leave you hanging."

York dropped into the chair again, examining one of the carrots and then taking a dainty nibble from the end...before promptly making a face and pulling it away from his muzzle. "Ew." He chewed with a dismayed expression, trying to play it cool. It had just...been a silly question, right? Nothing to take too seriously. "Uh. I mean, it...it's alright, we got interrupted, and...I guess I didn't really have a right to ask that after everything else, so--"

Wash cut him off by lifting a hand. "Hey, just...just let me talk a minute, okay?" York nodded sheepishly and sunk into the chair that had...nothing to sink to, his enormous body simply shrinking down into itself in a vague attempt to relax. Wash didn't seem to notice, though, his eyes locking back onto the apple. "I...I spent most of my childhood in an orphanage. And I thought I had it rough, but. What you lived through..." He frowned and gave York a soft look for a few seconds, which sent a strange twist through the giant chupa's gut. It wasn't pity, it was something else. Something he clung to silently and kept held close as Wash continued gently. "But I know I can't compare them so easily. And I know it's stupid to say things weren't hard for us both, in their own ways. I, um. Connie was there with me for most of it. I still don't know why she decided to be my friend, but I know she's probably the only reason I came out of there alive, or at least semi-functional."

He gave a faint smile to the apple before gnawing off another sliver of it and chewing for a few seconds. "The people who ran it weren't...it's not like they were abusive or anything, but. It wasn't great, either. What was worse were the other kids. There was a reason I was so upset about how you guys treated me at Specials, or even here at Freelancer. It was the same as back then, just without Connie to defend me." Wash rubbed his thumb along the skin of the fruit. "I was one of the few kids who could climb trees well, though, and. I'd spend a lot of time in the apple tree in the backyard. I was safe from them and...I had the one thing I could eat there that didn't just taste like salted cardboard. I was safe up in that tree, and it gave me comfort...but."

He bit his lip for a moment and York was almost afraid to meet his eyes when he tilted his head toward him again. But their gazes locked regardless before Wash offered a quiet laugh and gazed at the apple again. "But it was lonely up there. It was always so lonely."

The apple rested in both of his small hands for a moment, even the compact fruit looking enormous compared to the little chupa. York had never felt such a powerful urge to protect someone, and yet as helpless as Wash might have seen to anyone else, as weak or vulnerable as he appeared to the world, York knew better by now. He wasn't just stubborn, but he was tough, and he'd weathered more than most ever would to get where he was now.

"I learned to...to embrace that loneliness. Because at first, Connie would climb up there with me." Wash exhaled quietly. "I guess I made it clear I didn't want to be coddled, though. She soon stopped coming up, and it was just me. It was my safe place, my place where I could be comfortable. I accepted being alone because as much as I appreciated her defending me...I needed something that I could call my own."

His soft amber eyes slowly came back to meet York's, and York took a long breath as he tried his best to understand whatever it was that drifted through his thoughts. It was confusing and strange and yet something he wanted to clutch into, to hold close next to whatever else Wash had sewn into his breast with his thoughtful gazes. He had good friends, but he realized at that moment he'd never had someone he could call his best friend. It seemed unlikely...impossible it could be Wash, after what they'd been through...and yet at the same time, because of what they'd been through, how could it not be? But he didn't know what to say, to try and tell Wash what he wanted without being selfish, without being the York that he didn't want to be around his old combat buddy.

Wash saved him the trouble as he took one more bite from the apple and then set the core quietly aside. "York. I'm not an easy person to get along with. You've...seen that, first hand."

"I don't want easy," York replied as he studied the vegetables in his hands. "I want a friend. A real friend. Someone who understands me, and that I know will have my back no matter what. Look, even if...even if we aren't partners, I want to be your friend, Wash. We've been through a lot and I don't trust anyone like I do you."

Wash reached up to run a hand slowly over the railing of the bed. He let his eyes move over York, and York remained silent. He didn't feel like he was being appraised as much as Wash was taking the time to contemplate the answer and everything that came with it. He wasn't sure he was ready when Wash at last spoke softly.

"I...I need you to let me do things for myself." Wash hesitated and then closed his eyes as he gripped tightly into the plastic rail. "But I know I need you to have my back, too. It's...York, it's really hard for me to trust people." Those golden irises showed themselves again and York felt nailed to the chair. "I trusted you once before and it still hurts." He took a deep breath before releasing the rail as his hand dropped back to the mattress. "I like being around you, though. And when you're not being an ass, you really do make me feel like I'm capable, like I've actually got a chance even in this place. And...you've kept your word about not carrying me. That means more to me than I can say."

York smiled lamely and shifted in the chair before nodding. "Hey, I...I've always meant it when I tell you how far you've come along. I'm really proud of you, little buddy. And I think you're gonna turn out even more awesome than you could ever imagine."

"I don't know about all that," Wash murmured even as he nodded back with a small smile. "But I appreciate it all the same."

"Hey, so..." York perked a bit, warily holding out a fist toward his companion. "Friends?"

Wash blinked and looked at his closed fingers for a few seconds before sighing and smiling faintly again, raising his own fist and bumping their knuckles together. "Friends. As long as you leave those vegetables, at least."

"Oh, geezus, yeah, take them all," York muttered, quickly standing up so he could dump the small cache of greens into Wash's lap. "I'll give you a couple days but I'm one-hundred-percent teasing you about this in the near future because this is weird shit to be into eating."

Wash sighed once more but looked amused as he lifted a carrot to take a bite from. "They're just vegetables, York."

"Uh huh, hey, I've avoided them for the last forever and I turned out fine."

"Other than that big dumb soft brain."

"Hey, the ladies love my soft brain," York scoffed before he was reminded of something. He trailed off briefly and rubbed the back of his neck as Wash gazed up at him curiously. "So uh. Aw, damn, I. I'm gonna have to be late tomorrow."

Wash blinked and it didn't take York long to recognize the attempt to cover up a disappointed expression. "Oh, uh. Oh that's fine, York, seriously, it's. It's fine, you've been coming more than you need to already and --"

"I'm taking Carolina to the fair," York blurted as his shoulders hunched together nervously. Not at the thought of taking her on a date, but...on Wash's reaction. Looking back at their drunken time together in Calypso with a sober eye had made it rather clear just how much that whole scenario bothered Wash. He was sure Wash wanted nothing to do with Carolina, herself, it was more just...the whole situation. And now York understood why. "I, um. I really just want to be honest with you, buddy, I've done a lot of hiding already."

Wash exhaled slowly and his eyes remained on the vegetables for a few seconds. But he eventually tilted his head back up and smiled a bit. It was small but it looked genuine. "It's okay, York. And...and I really appreciate you letting me know. You have fun, both of you. Don't worry about me, it should only be another day or so, anyway."

York huffed and crossed his arms. "Hey, screw you, pal." Wash blinked and stared up at him in confusion, and he immediately smiled before gently nudging Wash's shoulder. "You're my friend, now. And. I sure as hell don't wanna talk to anyone else about all the dumb shit I'm gonna end up saying and doing around her. You're gonna be stuck hearing all the embarrassing details."

Wash sighed but looked like he couldn't help the tiny smile. "I...York. I appreciate it, but it'll be past lights-down when you guys get back, I'm sure. You know you'll get in big trouble if you leave the common areas after that."

York puffed his chest out and grinned confidently. "Hey, this is the York! If I say I'm gonna see my little buddy tomorrow, then I'm gonna. Now you get some rest and don't let Nurse Mean-Mug steal all your blood or anything, huh?" He smiled down at Wash and received an honest smile back. "Good night, Wash."

Wash gazed up at him for a moment before laughing quietly. "Alright. Good night, York. And...good luck tomorrow."

"Heh, I don't need luck to get lucky!" When Wash gave him a look, York felt only better and he grinned happily. "I appreciate it, bud. And I'll see you tomorrow, no matter what."

Washington grumbled as the lights went down. It made sense to keep the Freelancers on a cycle. The body needed regular rest to go with the regular activity. But goddammit, the least they could have done was not put a fucking skylight right outside the medical ward. "At least close the fucking blinds before you lock me in," he muttered.

And he was, in fact, being locked in. Like he was going to try and escape in the middle of the night or something. Christ.

The only good news is that he would supposedly be ready to be discharged sometime tomorrow. Maybe even by Reveille. He could hope, at least, because he was exceptionally tired of being stuck here. In this bed, in this too-clean, too-sterile room. He hated all the space, and all the light. He hated the smells and the constant prodding. He sometimes still felt like electrodes were attached to him, even when they'd been off for hours. Part of him wondered if all the regular testing was meant to be an incentive to not end up in a gurney. It was doing the trick for him, that was for damn sure.

As his disgruntled thoughts dwindled, however, less and less remained to keep his mind occupied. He knew not to expect anything, though at the same time...York had surprised him twice already. But part of him regretted that, too. Hell, part of him resented York for being so goddamn dependable against all his own assumptions because now he expected it. And it hurt to have his hopes crumble, even if it was a long shot to begin with.

He supposed it didn't help that the day had been stressful as hell already. The nurse and one of the actual doctors had spent nearly two hours testing his pain responses around his nearly-healed wound, and then the Counselor had interrogated -- oh, no, sorry, he preferred the term 'interviewed' -- him for nearly the same amount of time on all the details of why he'd taken the attack for York, when all logical evidence pointed to everything being safer for York to have simply taken the knife, himself.

It bothered him because normally he was all about logic. But something about the way the Counselor had discussed it with him had made him dig in and continuously try to change the subject...because he knew all too well that logic had nothing to do with the decision. It was something far deeper than that, something that he wouldn't be able to explain. Something he didn't want to explain, partially because it was something he still didn't fully understand, himself.

He slowly sat up in the bed. He often forgot there was nothing actually forcing him to stay stuck on the thin mattress. The IV had been removed, he wasn't any sort of prisoner with a cuff around a post or railing. Yeah, the door was locked, but. He could get up, if he wanted to. Use the restroom, walk around. He was supposed to continue limiting his movement until he was cleared but...a little pacing never hurt anyone.

He reached around to lower the rail, then let his legs swing over the side. He then paused for a moment to lift up his shirt and look at the fading wound. Sometimes he could still see the knife there. It didn't scare him anymore, though. Just something else he could now say he'd survived, something else to use to become stronger. He wondered if York would remember it, too.

The colder, crueler part of him said there was no way he would. York had saved his ass so many times...what was one returned favor? But...another part of him, the part that wanted a friend so desperately, it reminded him of the look that had been on York's face when he'd seen him on the ground. It was abject terror. He didn't just care, he was stricken. It had been as awful for York as it had been for Washington, hadn't it?

Washington let his fingers slide over the scar tissue before he let his oversized shirt hang back down as he dropped to the floor. His legs wobbled a bit -- god, he had been stuck here too long -- and he grimaced as his tail struggled to maintain his balance. A moment or two of unsteadiness before he took a hesitant step and remembered how walking worked. A quiet sigh slipped past his muzzle and he rubbed the back of his head while letting his paws wander over the cool floor. He was half-tempted to just go ahead and try to sleep, get to the next day faster. It would mean being that much closer to being discharged, at least.

It would also mean less...of this. Because he knew he wasn't just anxious to move again, he was...well. He was just anxious. It was like waiting for something he knew he had no business waiting for, like being back at the orphanage waiting for gifts on the days of the festivals when they all knew damn well they weren't getting a thing. But funny...it never stopped them from wishing. And goddamn if he wasn't doing the same now, wasn't he?

He sighed and shook his head a bit, wandering over to a lab table that had been wiped clean, all equipment and samples neatly tucked away into their proper places. He thought for a moment about poking through it but...what was the point. He knew they wouldn't have left anything of actual interest lying around for him to peruse. He grumbled before blinking and tilting his head when he heard the door handle jiggle.

...No way.

He heard a muffled curse through the door before a beat of silence that was proceeded by the sound of delicate movements inside the mechanism, a light scraping accompanied by a quick series of jabs...followed by the door swinging open to reveal York hunched over with a half-grin. "Heyyy, little buddy!" he whispered loudly before cursing again and glancing over his shoulder. "Whoops, shhhh!" he hissed as he gingerly yanked the door shut and then scooped up Washington to hold him against his chest while a pair of administrators wandered past outside, chatting to themselves.

Washington could feel his heard thudding for a moment as his teeth clenched at the contact...but then he was being set back onto his paws and he could breathe again. He...didn't hate it, at least, not like he usually did. Perhaps letting York be his friend wasn't the worst decision he'd ever made. He turned around with a hesitant smile and found York grinning down at him before he put his hands on his hips.

"Hey, man -- are you supposed to be outta bed yet?"

Washington shrugged a bit and smiled faintly. "They say I should be able to be outta here tomorrow, so. Figured I'd get a little exercise so I look slightly less stupid when I stumble out of here."

"Now that's the spirit!" York chortled before he held up a finger and dug around in his hip pouch. "Oh, wait just a sec..."

"If you filled that thing up with vegetables again, I'm gonna both thank and punch you," Washington huffed even as he smiled a bit.

"No such luck," York replied with a laugh. He bit his tongue as he continued to fish about, then brightened as he pulled his hand back out. "Aha! Here we go!" He proudly held up a compact combat knife in a clean leather pouch. "I got this for you!"

Washington blinked as he tilted his head. "You...you got it for...me?"

"Yeah!" He laughed and offered it with an insistent shake of his hand. "C'mon, it's all yours! I won it fair 'n square at one of those rigged games, didn't even have to steal it!"

Washington smiled helplessly and carefully reached out to accept it with both hands. "York...you shouldn't have. Seriously, you were supposed to be having fun with, um. Er. How did things go with, uh. Carolina?"

York grinned toothily. "Heh. Let's just say I didn't need to win no prizes for her -- she not only almost got us kicked out for winning every game there, but then after I kicked her butt in Lethal Combat, we decided to get outta there and just have some...us-time. It was nice!" He had no problem seeing the torn expression on Washington's face, however, no matter how well Washington thought he was hiding it. "But um. We don't have to talk about that, Wash."

He...almost corrected him. But didn't. And he chewed on the nickname for a few seconds. He...he liked it, didn't he? Because that's what friends did, they came up with nicknames, they made you feel more comfortable no matter what was going on in your life. Wash took a deep breath and then gave an honest smile while holding up the knife. "Hey. We can talk about it, York. First tell me why you thought a knife was a good present for me, but...then you tell me how things went between you and, um, Carolina...okay?"

York blinked but smiled enormously, his features lighting up immensely. "Oh...okay! Hell yeah!" Wash smiled back and hopped quietly onto a nearby counter as York began an animated tale of how he just knew Wash would love the knife because he had been watching his combat training and was noticing he was so good fighting at close-range, and would need a back-up after his pistol was dry.

He wasn't quite listening to the words, though. Wash simply...listened. His eyes were warm as he watched his companion...his friend go on and on about how awesome it would be for Wash to not just be a badass pistol marksman but if he was good at knives too. Stabbing, throwing, you name it -- it would be totally awesome, apparently. And it was all so silly but so earnest. Wash himself never thought he'd be anyone so capable but...York really believed it. York believed in him, in what he could do. He talked now about Wash as much as he talked about himself, about all the cool things they could do together after all their time in Specials, and about all the awesome stuff he was learning from Carolina, too.

The conversation did, inevitably, turn to her. But...but Wash was okay with it. Because he knew he didn't need to be jealous. He was happy to have a friend. He was happy to be a friend, to be able to listen and laugh and tell York what an idiot he was for spilling his drink all over her within ten minutes of arriving there, to let York know that it was a terrible idea to bet on their next round of Lethal Combat, because it was somehow going to bite him in the ass.

It was nice, and it was easy. Wash hadn't expected it to be either of those two things, considering how much he'd dreaded hearing about all the great things York was doing previously. Something was different now, though. Maybe it was because they'd put aside their immense differences to remember what they shared, instead. Maybe it was thanks to whatever invisible bond they'd formed over their quarters together, the link that had forged between them in spite of all the bullshit they'd thrown at each other.

Yeah, some little piece of him still felt a little...melancholy at all the discussion of Carolina. He wasn't an idiot, after all. He was grateful to have a friend, to be able to share this kind of conversation with someone, and for someone to trust him with all these intensely personal feelings and discussions. He would never complain about that. But...but he knew what it meant for York to be so infatuated with her. He was happy his friend was happy, and...he was sad, too. Because time York spent with Carolina was going to be time away from him. Time where Wash would be left alone again.

The difference, though, was that he didn't need to fear it. He...he could trust his friend. Or at least, god, he hoped he could, because...because he needed to. He needed to have that trust, since without it, the darkness closed in far too quickly. York was a light for him, a beacon he could take comfort in.

CT would probably be glad she wasn't his only damn haven, anymore, too.

"And just...I dunno. I'm sure I sounded like an idiot, but she still smiled, she still laughed, she...still wants to hang out again," York murmured, his smile wistful and nervous all at once. He glanced at Wash, who was smiling up at him from his perch on the lab table. "Geez, it's...been a couple hours already, I'm uh..."

"It's fine, York," Wash replied with a laugh, nodding. He hesitated a moment, then added carefully, picking his words cautiously to try and protect his own nervous feelings. "You...you know, you and Carolina...it sounds like you two would make...um. Really good partners."

York was silent for a few seconds. His eyes were cast downward and Wash felt briefly uncomfortable, wondering if he'd come across as disingenuous. He did mean it, after all. But he supposed it might have sounded a little forced, especially if --

"Wash, um." York took a deep breath before lifting his gaze and meeting Wash's eyes. "I...do hope things keep going well with Carolina. I do, 'cause...I really like her. But...but I want to be partners with you, little buddy."

Wash blinked and nearly toppled forward off the table. "Uh...p-partners? With...me? Aw, I...York, you...can't, c'mon, you're so much better and--"

York pouted, a genuine pout gracing his features as he took a step forward. "Hey, you stop that, Wash," he chided quietly, poking a massive finger into his friend's chest. "I mean it. I want to work with you. Skill level isn't important, it's...teamwork. And you and I, we work really well together."

Wash shifted his weight and rubbed at his bicep before letting his eyes linger on York for a few seconds. His friend looked about as honest as could be. "I...York, you. Really mean that?"

"Serious as a heart attack," York replied with a hand against his chest. "I've got your back, and I know you've got mine. And...and you're my friend, Wash. I trust you. That matters more to me than how good you are." He smiled a bit wider. "And besides, you're better than you think. And one day you are gonna kick so much ass and I'm gonna be the one standing there like 'whoa, look how awesome and sexy and incredible that guy is' and I'm gonna be the one thinking you need a better partner. Got it?"

Wash smiled faintly but the warm swell in his chest was anything but. He nodded and held out his hand, which York grasped firmly into with a broad grin. "You know that...the paperwork we fill out is just a request, right?"

York huffed and squeezed his hand hard enough to make his fingers creak. "Don't be such a bucket of ice, partner!" He smiled and released Wash's hand while firing him a pair of fingerguns. "You already know I'll break curfew and bust open locks to hang out with ya, little buddy! So no matter who they assign us with...still partners." Wash smiled despite himself. "Right?" York added with a stern tip of his head down.

"Right," Wash replied softly. "No matter what, partner."

Red vs Blue © Rooster Teeth. Halo © 343 Industries. Concept by Myshu, assisted by The Department of Chupapology.