legionworld | The Sad Blanket Tour [Open]

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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.

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All he receives in turn is a glare. No, he will not be letting go of that particular delusion, and you can't make him. That tiny little admission means that everything he's built up around him over the years is a lie, and he's not ready to watch all of that come tumbling down just yet.

Who could possibly come back from that?

"I'm not going. There's no point in it," he affirms, after a steady length of silence during which neither of them seem inclined to do much beyond glower at one another.

If Locus wants the local expert in having your life completely razed to the ground and still coming out the other side, he happens to be right there, telling Locus to get his act together.

Like Locus will listen.

"There's no point in it," Wash repeats. "There's no point in getting better, so people can't find the giant holes in your psyche and drag you around by them. Is that right? Are you even listening to yourself?"

"There's no point because there is no getting better."

The Faceless. Felix. He can still hear them, the reminder of what he allowed himself to become when given the option. It's the truth. Washington just refuses to see that fact, despite being the one to initially see through everything else.

Contrary to the last.

"If what I truly am is a monster, then there's no point in trying to pretend otherwise."

"Not with that attitude there isn't." There's being needlessly contrary, and there's having a different point of view; Wash would like to think he's doing the latter right now.

"You can't just flip a switch and be better. It takes years, and it's all setbacks and fuckups and shitty decisions that you have to recover from before you can move forward, and it's really fucking hard to wake up every morning and choose to keep going! But if you really are committed to making things right, then that's what you have to do. Your first setback was a fucking doozy, but if you really want what you said you want, then you can't let it stop you. Because if you do, then that's it. Game over. If you want to change, then you have to try and keep trying."

"You weren't there!"

And now his back is up again, posture going rigid, frustration set into every crease on his face as his eyes narrow on Washington.

"You don't know. Azucar might have told you what she saw but you don't know what it was to be one of those things. To see everything that you--"

No. Stop. Reign in it, he's not discussing this. But the more he tries to drag it back in, the tighter his posture goes, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

Oh. The return of the screaming match. He can do this.

"That you what?" he demands, facing Locus head-on. "That you fucked up? That you hurt? That you killed? You think I don't know what that's like? Fine! Tell me what I'm missing!"

People let things slip in screaming matches, is the thing. He's gotten answers from these more than once. Hopefully that luck will hold here.

"Enough!"

If there were something nearby other than Wash to send flying across the room, it might have done so. Instead, his fist struck out against the wall beside him, that thread of tension finally snapping.

"Stop pretending that this matters to you. That you understand. You don't. You know the guilt of having blood on your hands, but you were not there," Locus ground out, each word low and deliberate. "You couldn't smell the corpses or see how far they stretched. Women. Children. You don't know what it's like seeing your legacy laid out in front of you and coming to terms with the fact that the universe would be better off without you in it."

He'd asked, and he'd gotten his answer: guilt. An overwhelming amount of it.

Well, yeah, that makes sense. Once the fires burn out, all you have left is ashes and death. It's hard to forget the taste, and Locus has more of it than most.

But the basics are still the same.

"You don't have a legacy until you die," he snarls. "Felix's legacy is murder and manipulation and lies, and it is set. You still have a chance, and you're not going to do shit with it until you realize that you can't change the past!" That's the big one. That's the truth that's hardest to swallow and the goddamn cornerstone of redemption once you do. "Those people are dead, and nothing you do is going to change that. So you can either give up and cement that legacy or you can do better!"

Do better. As if it were that simple, to simply ignore what had transpired and start anew.

What if I can't? What if this is all that I'm meant for?

But Washington has a point, as loath as he is to admit to that fact. There is more he could do, if he pushed. If he endured. He's not certain that he can, however, if this is the best he can do.

"And how would you suggest that be done?"

And there it is.

Wash takes a breath and lets it out, releasing the tension and volume with it. He's learned to turn off the anger and frustration on a dime, and it's come in handy more than once. "You're a Legionnaire." Calm, steady, as though he hadn't just been yelling at Locus and Locus hadn't just told him he was quitting. "For now, do your duty."

Given that doing his duty had damn near broken Locus today, that probably isn't good enough. "It's not always going to be lovecraftian horrors and fighting the goddamn Joker - a lot of it is keeping the peace. Rescuing people from burning buildings, stopping bank robberies, stuff like that. Helping people. Start there."

Do your duty.

And even if he thinks it's best to put that ring away and never look at it again, another part of him still wants to be part of that greater cause. To function as part of something more, something noble, something bigger than he is. It's what he's good for.

Well. To a point. What he's good at is violence, the part of him that thrived in that monstrous form. Rescuing people, saving people, helping them? That's never been as big a thing for him. Hell, he couldn't even apprehend Washington and the Reds without violent means.

"I don't save people. You know that."

"Not yet, at least. Like I said, it's not like flipping a switch." Locus might be expecting too much of himself; Wash can't make the same mistake if he wants to make his point.

Locus doesn't think he can change being a monster; well, fine. That's not an issue Wash can fix, but it's one he can use. "If you think you're only good at violence, then use it. Fight for people who can't fight for themselves. You can't bring back the dead, but you can prevent people from joining them." Or you can try, at least.

Be a monster in the direction of those that deserve it. That's what he'd planned on doing. That's what he can do. He just needs to refocus his efforts. He just--

He's in no state to do it right now. But, maybe. Given time. It could be, as opposed to something he could dismiss as an impossibility, and he swallowed thickly before allowing his gaze to rest on Washington once more.

Finally, faintly, he gives him a nod. He understands that much, at least.

He stays silent, waiting for Locus to process and respond. The best Wash can do is offer what he's done, and he has, and Locus-

Accepts it, evidently. The nod is a relief, and Wash returns it, breathing out a slow sigh.

Wordlessly, Wash retrieves the fallen blanket from the floor and steps forward to offer it to Locus. At the moment, there's not much else to say.

No, what has needed to be said has been said. He will think on it before taking action, certainly before acting rashly.

Why Washington seems so convinced he should have this second opportunity is still a mystery. Is it that he finally sees their similarities? Does he feel responsible? He can't pretend to know the man's motives. Only his actions.

For now, they are accepted for what they appear to be. Silently, he takes the blanket, tugging it away before hesitantly placing it back around his shoulders. Small thing that it is, it does feel slightly better.

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The Sad Blanket Tour [Open]

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