legionworld | The Sad Blanket Tour [Open]

Who| Wash and whoever else wants to join in
What| Those last two missions were terrible, and Wash is checking in on his friends to make sure they're okay and nudge them in that direction if they're not
Where| All over the ship
When| After Silent Horizon and No Sanity Clause; the rest of the afternoon/evening after Kid Q's briefing
Warnings/Notes| This is mostly for Wash's extant CR, but I'm absolutely down for him meeting new people. He's not going to turn anyone away right now, after all. Also, behold the mighty planning spreadsheet.

It has been, to put it lightly, a shitty day.

They'd beaten the Joker but lost one of their own. Half the team had been through what sounded like literal hell. Clown in a fridge victory aside, things hadn't gone well for anyone.

So, once Wash had gotten himself out of medical with a promise not to do anything strenuous until he'd healed completely, he'd hunted down as many blankets as he could find and gone looking for his teammates. He couldn't fix what had happened, but at least he could try to help.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kubo wasn't hard to find, because he wasn't in any mood to be far from his mother. But he went looking for Wash anyway.

Well, virtually, anyway. A short message on the communicator summoned Wash to the quarters Kubo shared with his mother, the day after they returned from the Silent Horizon.

"I'd like to talk to you, when you have time," it read. "Can you come to my quarters at 0600?"

There was technically no morning in space, but even so, Kubo was a morning person, whereas Sariatu was not. He was awake in the living space of their shared quarters at that time, idly plucking out notes on his shamisen.

"Of course."

It's a rough night for Wash, mostly sleepless with what little rest he does get fraught with nightmares. It's a little worse than par for the course, given that he needs his wits about him and sleep deprivation doesn't exactly help with that. Nonetheless, he's up at the normal time for a workout and a jog, and he's cleaned up and at Kubo's quarters by six, knocking quietly on the door.

Kubo answered the door pretty quickly, still looking a little bleary-eyed from sleep. He'd been up long enough to make some tea and set it on the kotatsu table.

He'd been in the habit of bowing politely to Wash at greeting and parting. His mother had told him it was polite to greet a teacher this way, and he always pulled it off pretty quickly.

"Please come in. Would you like some tea?"

He looked more solemn than he would have before the mission to the Silent Horizon, as he pulled the door open for Wash. Not haunted, quite - certainly not as traumatized as he would have been if his mother were not here now.

Still - there were reasons he'd asked Wash to come over. Things he hoped Wash could put into perspective for him.

He'd told Kubo he didn't need to bow exactly once: Mother said I should was enough to keep him from pressing the point. It's kind of hard to win against Kubo's mom, and Wash wants to be able to pick his battles if it comes down to it.

Hopefully, it won't ever be an issue.

"Sure. Thanks." He's more of a coffee person, but there's something to be said for being polite. He rests a hand on Kubo's shoulder as he enters and they head towards the table.

"What's on your mind?" There has to be something, for Kubo to have asked him to come by so early.

"Well . . . I wanted to ask how you were doing."

By the look Kubo cast to the ground as he lead Wash to the kotatsu and poured his tea, that wasn't all he wanted to ask. He wasn't pretending otherwise.

"You were there when Yuuri brought Blue Rose, and you fought the Herald . . . I still don't understand how you stopped him," he said, sitting across from Wash. He had a fridge in his quarters, he just didn't know that was what it was called. "But I'm glad you did."

Whatever more he needed to know about that battle, Wash would surely tell him. Maybe there was a lesson there his teacher was already planning to impart on him, and the rest of the students . . . but Kubo had other questions that might not be addressed in training.

He just had to check that Wash was, among other things, relatively OK before jumping into his.

"I'm okay." It's not quite the truth, but it's not an out-and-out lie either; it's somewhere in the odd gray area between 'not as okay as he'd like to be' and 'not a complete wreck.' He settles in at the table and wraps his hands around the cup of tea. It's hot, but he's beyond caring. "It's not the worst battle I've ever been in, and..." There's really no good way to say this. "Honestly, she's not the first ally I've lost, and I'm sure she won't be the last." Wash has long since stopped having illusions about his life; there's no point, as all they do is give him false hope and leave him to be destroyed when reality comes knocking.

"How are you holding up?" Kubo was on the hellship - Wash should be worried about him, not the other way around.

It was a lie that Kubo got. The answer that was between "I'm done crying for now" and "I'm not sure I won't later, but I don't know when 'later' is right now."

That was a different space to be in when his mother was a room away. He was so much more okay than he would have been, without her.

"I'm sad about Karina," he said.

He wrapped his own hands around his cup, but released it as its warmth stung his hands too quickly.

"She . . . we were going to play music together, and now we never will. I wish I hadn't put off playing with her. I wish I had that music to remember her by. Instead of just remembering that we would have."

He looked at Wash with his one wide eye. He wanted Karina to be the last they lost. He knew too well the odds against that.

"You don't . . . think she couldn't come back here?"

His mother had come back from the dead. Wasn't this a place of miracles?

Oh God.

It makes sense for Kubo to think that way. He'd gotten his mother essentially back from the dead; why couldn't he get someone else too?

"I...don't know," Wash says slowly, feeling out the words and trying to let Kubo down easy. "I don't know too much about how dimensional travel works here, but...I don't think it's the same as getting your mom back. Karina died here, in this dimension - I don't know if the Time Trapper can do anything about it. I don't think we can count on that."

He took that conclusion well enough.

"I know it's not something to count on," he said, looking down. "It . . . doesn't seem likely."

Maybe his mother could be here because she had once been immortal. Maybe that gave her a certain defense against death, or a certain door out of it . . . as far as Kubo knew, Karina had no experience cheating death at all, like his mother did.

"I don't know if it makes me feel better or worse to think that it could happen."

If it could happen and didn't . . . why? That raised so many questions, suggested so many sad things.

He shrugged.

"I'm going to put a shrine in her part of the Habitat deck, since they're leaving it up. It's . . . what I would have done back home."

The Sad Blanket Tour [Open]

Kubo

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