legionworld | It's Not Really Hiding [Open]

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It's Not Really Hiding [Open]

Who: Wash, anyone who wants to bother him
What: Wash's paranoia is a little worse than usual right about now, so he's making himself scarce.
Where: All over the ship, namely the habitat deck
When: Less than a week after Locus' and York's Legionnaire Legacies; not long after The Spies Who Sprocked Us
Warnings/Notes: Not right now; further bulletins as events warrant

Wash has been pretty quiet this week. It's nothing to worry people about - he's dealt with his paranoia before, and he's dealing with it now. The fact that it's slow and sneaking instead of outright terrifying right now is different, but that doesn't change the fact that he's dealing with it. Never mind the small breakdown he staved off after trying to help York and Locus through the ramifications of having their pasts smeared all over the airwaves. Never mind that being out in public might very well make him next and nowhere the press has access to is truly safe. He's fine. He's dealing with it.

It's subtle, at first. He starts trading in his on-call shifts for monitor duty. It's never a trade with the same person, and there's always some excuse. He's doing someone a favor; he wants to spend some time with DC; he needs a quieter day today; and on one particular occasion, yesterday's mission was rough and he just needs a little quiet time. It looks like a string of one-off swaps, but anyone looking at the overall pattern can see that he's avoiding active duty, or at least anything that might put him in a public place.

He still goes to meals regularly; he can still be seen walking the halls, sometimes with DC perched on his shoulder, sometimes carrying a bag; he can still occasionally be found in his usual haunts on the habitat deck. After a few days, however, anyone checking his room will find it emptier than usual: the Reaper traps are still enabled, but he and DC obviously haven't been there for a few days. They've got to be staying somewhere, but the only person who knows where that is is out on an extended mission and may not be back for a while.

Turns out Wash's definition of "dealing with his paranoia" is holing up until it goes away.

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South is always more than happy to swap shifts for something more exciting than monitor duty, and while she's not exactly familiar with 'paranoid Wash', after a while even she's able to notice the odd pattern going on.

So, during one of her off days when he's running monitor duty again, she tracks him down and leans over the back of his seat.

"I miss the old Wash. This one's too moody."

Is she supposed to be there? No? Oh well. Here she is.

True to his word, ten minutes after their conversation, Wash knocks on the door of Locus' safehouse. DC isn't with him; he'd been napping, and Wash hadn't had the heart to move him, especially given that he doesn't know why Locus wants to talk with him.

Locus knows. Mostly. There are steps to be taken in the hopes of making progress, and some of those steps involve reaching out to other people. Even when you really don't have the faintest idea of what to do about any of it, but still realize that there are Things that need to be addressed.

In lieu of answers? He has a cat. A cat courtesy of Wash, in fact, and apparently cats are the cure to many ills. Said cat is sitting on the table when Locus opens the door, daintily licking between her pink toe beans.

Locus, meanwhile, has clearly made a return to heavier, restrictive clothing for comfort, but he's out of his armor at least. He moves to make room for Wash to make his entrance to the room almost immediately.

This...is not something Wash ever wanted, especially not now, when his nerves are shot to hell. He takes a deep breath and gives a very long-suffering sigh. "Sure. Let me just rewind ten years of my life for you. I'll get right on that."

He notices the change of clothes but says nothing - if Locus wants to talk about it, that's his prerogative, but he's not about to pick at a coping mechanism that's not harmful and might actually be working. Instead, he heads inside and stops, sparing a glance at Luna - damn but that kitten is cute - before looking at Locus. "What did you want to talk about?"

Locus just studies him a moment, with that same intense stare that at one point -- and to some extent, probably still -- unnerved Washington so. Then, he takes a quiet little breath, his shoulders sinking.

The door closes as he turns, moving to pick up Luna from where she's lounging. He's obviously still working out what exactly to say.

"Where were you?" is the first thing that comes to mind. Maybe a little indirect from him, but Wash usually asks far more questions in the first five minutes of any conversation they have.

Admittedly, Wash usually has a purpose when he knocks on Locus' door. Right now, he's just confused and more than a little suspicious. "The hab deck," he says, and sans details, it's the truth. "Don't worry, mom, I made it back before curfew." Locus is obviously trying, but that doesn't mean Wash is going to make it easy on him.

Wash is missing. Not missing completely, but missing enough that the Chief has noticed. The final piece was Wash trading off an active duty shift that coincided with his. Wash has been careful, but the pattern falls into place all too quickly as the Chief starts to look. The Legionnaire Legacies were too soon for it to be a coincidence, too. He has some idea of what's going on, here.

If it were anyone else, the Chief would pass the buck. He could quietly drop a note to someone good at this... other-people's-emotional-states thing, and he'd be done with it.

But it's Wash. Wash is a special case.

So, the Chief falls into step beside him in the hall one evening as he's leaving dinner.

"Wash?"

Oh Wash. You have not yet begun to reach the levels of sass he is used to dealing with. Though he still gets a scowl for the effort.

"You are usually more...visible."

Which says a thing or two about how much time Locus spends observing him, but that's kind of standard for Locus. Watching people that interest him is what he does. And Wash's behavior is no less interesting now that he knows that they're basically walking the same path back from all that's happened in their pasts.

Victor is completely oblivious to any changes in Wash's schedule and behavior. He monitors his own schedule and Yuuri's and that's quite enough for him. It's sheer coincidence that he happens across the other man in the hallway.

Of course, as Wash has performed with distinction the action of "kept Yuuri alive when he may have otherwise died", Victor greets him with all the enthusiasm of a dear friend.

"Wash!" Victor breaks into a jog to catch up with him, waving a skewer of some sort of probably-food. "Try this!"

Wash just raises an eyebrow. "Are you stalking me? Because I thought we were past that."

It's deflection, and it's going to be deflection at every turn until Locus manages to get to whatever point he's trying to make - if he gets there, that is.

"I didn't break into your room." That would cross the line into stalking, right? He's pretty sure that's where the line is. But that's besides the point.

His scowl depends. "Our last mission troubled you." It's not a question. Though he does have questions in regards to that, he's not sure he'd get any kind of satisfactory answer out of Wash if he tried to ask them.

Wash shakes off the urge to speed up as Chief falls into step with him. There's no sense in assuming Chief hasn't figured out that something is going on - it'd be an insult to his intelligence at the least. He can't avoid this conversation, or conversations like it, forever (and it's not like he can outpace Chief anyway).

So he acts like nothing's different. "Yeah?" Everything is completely normal with him, thanks for asking.

"Right, because that's what makes it creepy." Hello, sarcasm, his old friend.

"No kidding. It was my second time up against a Herald. Turns out it doesn't get easier with experience." It may not be the truth Locus is after, but it is a truth.

Wash had thought that years with the Reds and Blues had prepared him for everything, but no - Victor is something different every single time Wash runs into him. This is no exception. He gives Victor a blank look. "What is it and why?"

"If it were easy, they would not require us." It's the reason they're willing to overlook their pasts, right?

There's something else there, something troubling him on a deeper level, though he's not sure how to go prodding for it without turning things around on himself. Frowning to himself, he reaches to scoop up Luna, who blinks her big blue eyes at him.

A second later, and the cat is being carefully place atop Wash's head. A move so ridiculous, it has to knock him off guard at least a little. That done, Locus steps back, studying him with a completely straight face.

"Point." For a moment, it seems like Locus is going to change the subject - which is fine with Wash-

Until he finds himself with a cat on his head. He holds completely still - which is going to neuter a lot of his sarcasm, if he can't tilt his head - and just stares at Locus, letting silence settle for a few awkward seconds. "What," he finally says, "the fuck."

"I wanted to talk to you," he says. Which is simple and innocuous and normal, even though the situation isn't anymore.

"You've been different."

And he's concerned, and thinks he knows why, and isn't sure how to approach it or if this is going to get him shut out of the attempt already. But he has to try.

"Cats rectify these situations. That is the reason you brought me one."

There's not so much a twitch in his inspection, just that careful, searching look as Luna perches there tolerantly.

"Is it working?"

It's honestly hard to tell if Locus truly believes what he's saying or if he's just fucking with Wash. And here he'd thought Locus couldn't lie. He gives Locus a searching stare for a few more seconds before deciding to just go with the truth - it's about the only recourse available to him aside from removing the cat, and he's not about to dislodge Luna just yet. "Okay, you know that's not how this works, right? Because I really can't tell right now."

At least now they know that putting a cat on someone is a good way to keep them from moving.

"Why wouldn't it work?"

Again, Wash is getting nothing from that stone-serious expression, and eyebrow hiking as Luna takes it upon herself to nibble at Wash's hair before licking it smooth into place.

"No no, don't change on my account." She grabs a nearby chair and plops down in it, idly twisting back and forth. "Not like I don't enjoy being the babynow that you guys are like all fucking grandpas."

Connie the exception, of course.

"I have no idea," Victor answers cheerfully, presenting the skewer with all the joy of a dog with a soggy tennis ball. "I asked the alien with the food cart to surprise me. It's like a fried banana-carrot with cumin and yogurt."

Which clearly meant that he should share it with everyone he came across.

Wash just continues to stare. "Because she's a cat, not a topical antidepressant." To his credit, the stare holds through the impromptu kitten grooming - he's held a look through much worse.

And snap goes the trap.

"I see." Locus folds his arms, expression relaxing somewhat now that he's gotten his answer. "Though admission is apparently a step to recovery. Or so I've been told, repeatedly. Perhaps she did help, in her own way."

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