legionworld | When you only have half the story

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When you only have half the story

Who| York & Wash
What| Playing with the Kitten and MANLY BROODING
Where| Wash's Quarters
When| After Locus tells him about Chorus
Warnings/Notes| emotional constipation and kittenfluff ahoy!

The good news was that the conversation with Locus jarred York, somewhat, out of his latest bout of derealization. The bad news was that it gave him something else to throw up as mental proof later that this might be some kind of hell instead or. Whatever. He shoved all of that aside in favor of tracking down Wash's habitat which he found to be...blank.

Unhelpful.

Finding his quarters, then, and actually knocking instead of letting himself in was a thing. Look he was trying to be good, right? A good friend didn't break in. A good friend waited to be let in. Still instead of the usual 'look at me I'm trying to behave don't you like me' smirk there was a slump to his shoulders and contemplative cast to his face.

"Mind if I chill here for a bit? Being alone's kinda..." He wiggled a hand side to side. "Not fun."

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Wash is sleeping better with a kitten around, he's discovered. It's comforting to have a little ball of warm and fuzzy sleeping on or near him, and the kitten has started yowling at him until he wakes up when he's having nightmares, and while that doesn't prevent said nightmares, it does shorten the duration.

Whoever gave him the kitten, he owes them one.

He's lying on his back on the bed, kitten curled up and purring on his chest, when the knock on the door sounds. Reluctantly, he gets up, transfers the kitten to his shoulders, disables the Reaper traps with practiced ease, and opens the door to find York, looking like someone's just kicked his dog. "Yeah, sure." He opens the door wider and steps aside, closing it behind York after he steps in. His room is spartan at best, but it's neat, and there's room on the bed to sit. "What happened?"

"Nothing?" If said with conviction it might be only a terrible lie instead of awful. Said as a question as he further hunches his shoulders? Makes the evasion all the more obvious. "Was at Locus' for a bit just to get my head together. Been hav'n a day where I'm doubting shit."

That's enough information, right? right. He swings his guitar down to set against the wall and leans back against the door, distracting himself by tapping an idle tattoo against his bicep. But, well. Communication is a thing he's supposed to be working on and he wants to be better at...this. The whole being a friend thing means being vulnerable enough around people he trusts to understand or support him and shit like that. "We talked a little about your history with him. In. The barest terms possible. Attempts at global genocide were mentioned."

That could mean several things. Wash sits back down on the bed and transfers the kitten back to his lap, waiting for York to either double down on his lie or explain what he's talking about.

He does the latter, and Wash's eyebrows rise. Oh. "I wasn't expecting him to tell you so quickly," he says. Probably not the best thing to lead with, but it is the truth. It hasn't been very long since Valor's Day - Locus followed his advice pretty quickly. "What did he say?"

It really isn't the best opener, but York's eye doesn't narrow in so much of a glare as it does a 'wtf did I miss' squint. Apparently? A lot. Dying does that. Delta pops up over York's left shoulder to recite the cliff notes version of the conversation while York sits and processes everything.

'He described your history together as 'a bloody one' and that your last experience with one another was on either side of a war. That Chorus held resources, alien artifacts, that were of interest to his employer and to secure them they were to prompt either side of this civil war to wiping the other out to simplify the acquisition of said artifacts when you and the simulation troopers crashed.'

York pinches the bridge of his nose and ties it all up in a bow. "Y'all landed, got involved, tried to stop them. Then he just up and quit. I asked him to elaborate and he thought I meant the goddamn battles which- he doesn't people well, I get that. But for fuck's sake."

Wash listens as Delta and then York recap the conversation, silently petting the kitten. Well, at least someone in here can be happy, even if that someone's just the cat.

"That's the long and short of it," he says once York finishes. There's still one pretty big piece of the puzzle missing, however. "Well, mostly. Did he mention Felix at all?"

"Who?" Felix- "He made a vague mention of his partner not 'reassuring' him when he had questions but still talking him out of it? Except in Locus speak. Stilted Locus speak, even for him."

It had been easily the most awkward conversation possible.

"Oh my God." Wash buries his face in the palm of his hand. Thanks, Locus, for making life more difficult for everyone else.

He's got a decision to make here. On the one hand, he knows he doesn't have the full story, and that it's definitely not his to tell. On the other hand, York's in too deep to not know the rest, and obviously Locus is shit at telling it.

"Look," he says after a few moments, dropping his hand, "I only saw part of this - most of it's just what I've heard. Obviously Locus knows the whole story, but..." He lets that sentence trail off. Locus is not a good conversationalist, which is pretty damn obvious at this point.

"Felix was Locus' partner," he starts. "Supposedly they fought in the war together. I don't know what broke Locus, but Felix...kept him that way." He pauses, shaking off the vague feeling of there but for the grace of God go I that keeps cropping up when that subject comes up, and switches tacks. "Look, Felix was a fucking psychopath. Really charismatic, really good liar - he sold the whole 'mercenary with a heart of gold thing,' and even I bough it." He might still be mad about that. "Locus convinced himself that things would be fine as long as he was following orders. Felix liked planning the violent deaths of people who trusted him, and as far as I can tell, he did his best to keep Locus on a leash. It doesn't excuse anything, but it's still a big part of the story."

"..." Give him a moment, that is a LOT of shit to use to fill in the blanks but fill in the blanks it does. Things clicking and slotting into place in the overall equation that makes up Locus and-

"Holy shit." A lot of his behaviors make sense now. "I knew there was shit he wasn't saying and told him if he wanted to fill in the blanks he knew where to find me-"

Which would require him being proactive instead of repressing everything like Good Soldiers Do which is apparently important to Locus now or then or always and goddamn this is a mess. He sags forward, scrubbing his hands over his face, shoulders slumped. Okay. This is- it's a mess but it's a manageable one. Getting the rest out of Locus will take time and trust and honestly he's not sure he's got the emotional stamina for it but-

He'd picked him. Sorta. Walking away isn't easy. "...I'm not allowed to make friends anymore. Ever. I always pick the messed up ones."

And there it is. The story makes a hell of a lot more sense once you know all the major players.

"You're probably going to have to go find him," Wash says mildly, stroking the kitten. "He doesn't like making his own decisions." And the sun is slightly warm.

Wash snorts at that pronouncement. "You know, after he found out we were friends, I told him you considered him a friend too, and he told me you had shit taste in friends." He shrugs. "He's not exactly wrong." York knows how to pick 'em, for better or for worse. (Usually for worse.)

After a moment, Wash gathers the kitten up in his hands and offers it to York. "Here. It helps." The kitten mews and bats at one of York's hands. Look, it's helping!

"That is worrying on so many levels." Personal autonomy is a thing. An important thing. "God I'm not even done teaching Delta how to be a real boy-"

And now he's got a full fledged person with a whole new batch of trauma (because soldiers and PTSD and a fucker of a partner cannot possibly mean none) to give a damn about because he can't. Not. At this point. Christ.

The kitten does, in fact, help. He cups his palm underneath, smiling slightly as he strokes it's fur. "Yeah, little guy, you're helping. You name it yet?"

Because talking about cat names is easier than, well. Locus.

"Just don't tell him what to do. Give him options and don't tell him which one you prefer." He might take orders from you because you're a Freelancer is a conversation for another day, or at least not right this second.

The kitten is a hell of a lot easier to talk about than Locus. "Not yet. Nothing I come up with fits."

The kitten, immediately energized by its newish surroundings, rolls over and begins to gnaw on one of York's thumbs.

"Got it." He tries to look back on anything he'd done to see if it might've been instructive rather than, well, options. Nothing pops up so- they at least managed to become friends despite this weirdness.

"You haven't named your kitten. Seriously? I thought it'd be the easiest thing in the -hey!" He mock frowns down at the little guy, fingers of his free hand lifting to rub its nose. "Gentle teeth, I need those to work."

It does ease some tension in him, though. "Washington. D.C. Easy. Why didn't you think of it?"

The kitten pays York's admonition no mind and clamps its paws down on his finger, nibbling on it. This is what happens when you put your hands near a kitten, man.

"Because I don't usually go for stupid puns," Wash informs him. Damned if DC didn't fit better than anything else he'd managed to come up with, though. Dammit, York might've just named his cat.

"And yet, nothing else fits." Come on, Wash, embrace it. "If I had a dog I'd be calling it Brooklyn or something."

Maybe.

Well, no, he wouldn't that'd require owning a pet and he's still trying to keep his shit together. Visiting DC and Wash, though? Doable. "Admit it. The name fits."

"You'd be calling it Queens," Wash corrects him, "and you'd spoil it rotten." As far as Wash is concerned, it's not really hypocrisy on his part if the overabundance of cat toys all came from fans.

Wash gives York a very long sidelong look. "I'm naming your inevitable dog," he finally informs York. That's as close to surrender as he's going to get. At least the kitten has a name now.

"I'm not getting a dog." Seriously. "I don't need a therapy animal, I have Delta."

Who does all the things a therapy animal would do without any of the needing feeding or whatever. It's fine. They work. Even if they're codependent as fuck.

"Who said anything about a therapy animal?" Slow your roll, York. "It'd be a pet."

"The Doc recommended it and I'm not crazy about the idea." not specifically a 'dog' but a 'therapy animal' and he's. Not entirely enthused. "I'll just come over and borrow DC whenever I need a fix of cute and cuddly."

"Since when do you not want a dog?" That's like Wash not wanting a cat.

"And if the doctor recommended it, there's probably a reason." Might as well treat the suggestion with the seriousness it deserves.

"Since they're noisy, needy, and liable to get hurt if I'm found." Just. Habits he picked up on the run that are hard to shake.

"I've got D to wake me up if I have a night terror and to remind me to eat and sleep and stuff. It works." That's why prior get pets, right?

Honestly, with everything that's happened, it still comes a surprise when Wash comes face to face with how much York has changed in the past few years. "You know that's not the case here," Wash says, voice quiet. Stay in the now, York.

"And just because it works doesn't mean it's healthy." There's definitely some pot and kettle going on here, but this isn't about Wash right now.

"How's burying habits more or less burned into you by the project and adjusting to living in a peaceful society working for you?" There's no real bite to it- if anything York's voice remains it's usual playful drawl. "Being somewhere else doesn't make that shit go away. Right, DC?"

He turns his attention to the kitten, fingers rubbing up against it's chin. "We're already spending enough time apart since I pull him to go to therapy. He likes you but- he gets anxious. I do too, a little."

"Better, now that I've accepted I'm in an actual peaceful society," Wash replies flatly. "It takes some effort, but it actually works if you try."

DC has decided it's playtime and that York's hands are just the best toys ever. He clamps down on York's hand again and starts chewing on his fingers. Nom nom nom.

"So get a dog. There's a reason Doctor Ryk'rr told you to." Wash shrugs. "Plus, you can't pet Delta."

"I'm trying." A little. Baby steps, Wash. Baby steps. Still it's hard to think of a reason not when DC is here nibbling and gnawing on his fingers- nothing too hard or painful right now and it's so damn cute. He can't really begrudge it.

"She didn't say 'dog', she said 'pet'. And- well you got me there." Delta's pure code. Can't really express affection to code now, can he?

"You said dog," Wash reminds him, watching DC have the time of his life fighting York's hands.

He just raises an eyebrow at the admission, trying not to be too smug. Score's even.

"Yeah, well, that's what most people default to." He does like the idea of one but- paranoia is a thing slowly unlearned.

"I'll think about it." A beat. "You're not naming it."

"If you're already thinking of names, then it's pretty much a done deal," Wash informs him, far less worried now about letting the smugness show. "And I am absolutely naming it."

"You couldn't name your own cat." Seriously, wash. "How did you not think of DC."

He says. Without a single idea as to how hewould make his hypothetical future dog thing.

"I already told you, I don't go for stupid puns, and that doesn't mean I can't name your dog. Plus, I call dibs, so it's official."

"Well shit, nothing I can do about dibs." Some things are sacred, even now. "Just don't make it anything ridiculous, ok?"

You don't fuck with the international law of dibs.

"York, you named my cat DC. All bets are off."

"...point. But DC's such a cute name. Especially since you've taken to carrying DC around on your shoulder."

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When you only have half the story

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