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“Okay. So. Is everyone clear on the plan?” Carolina took a long look down the assembled line, no doubt glad that the helmets obscured what Wash had a feeling were a bunch of uneasy faces. He felt a pang of sympathy for her - it was his dumb plan that they were going with, but he was never really a fully realised idea kind of guy. Carolina had been left to come up with all the gruesome details. Carolina, who had Epsilon in her head, running figures and calculating the probability of them both making it out of this alive. He sincerely doubted it was a high one.
“You guys are going to use the cube and teleport yourself to the ship. It won’t be an easy take-off when you get there, something tells me Felix and Locus’ guys are gonna be pretty trigger happy, and especially so with two people missing from the party-”
“Then don’t be.”
Wash’s hand twitched as he mentally pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping in vain that the psychic movement would be enough to stave off the incredible headache he was developing, “Tucker…”
“I’m serious, Wash!” Tucker interrupted, stepping out of line to face him, “This plan is complete bullshit and you know it.”
“No, it’s not,” Keep your cool, Wash thought to himself. Whatever concerns he had about the plan, he didn't need to show it to any of the guys, least of all Tucker, “Listen, up until this point, you guys have been incredibly lucky. But that’s it. Lucky. You’ve seen what Felix and Locus can do. Hell, we all thought Felix was-” he hesitated, ‘one of us’ didn't feel like the right phrase, “someone we could trust, but he wasn’t, and he’s even more dangerous now. Especially to those of you who were with him at the rebel base. We may have escaped last time because of his need to vent, but this time we won’t get some clichéd villain speech. It’ll be all business, and his business is putting bullets into our heads. Repeatedly. Wake up, Tucker. You’re not ready for this. None of you are. This isn’t your fight anymore.”
“Dude, do not ‘White Fang’ me right now,” Tucker snarled, catching Wash by surprise.
“Holy shit, you've read that?” Epsilon chimed in, fading into view next to Wash’s head, “Scratch that, you've read any book?”
A bullet whizzed past Wash’s ear, the projection crackling in and out as it did. “Church, shut the fuck up. For once in our entire goddamn lives, this isn’t about you. This is about Agent Washington and his fucked up suicidal tendency to make the sacrifice play when he doesn’t have to. Watching you throw yourself on your sword is getting pretty old, David.”
The atmosphere around them had changed completely. Everyone else present had simultaneously taken at least three steps back, as if they expected an explosion to go off at any moment. There were a few shared looks among the reds and blues in the background of this exchange, looks that said shouldn’t we give them some privacy? and are they gonna fuck because if they’re gonna fuck i am out of here and I DON’T KNOW WHAT EVERYONE IS YELLING ABOUT, but nobody left. Nobody moved at all, weirdly fearful they’d break the moment and then the full force of Tucker’s vitriol would be focussed squarely on them which wasn’t so much terrifying as it was a pain in the ass. Whereas Wash tried his best to remain passive, Tucker was entirely aggressive.
“Someone has to make it out of here, Tucker. I need them to. I need you to,” he sighed, bringing a hand up to rest on Tucker’s shoulder, trying to remind himself why he was doing this, why he wasn’t just running for the ship with the rest of them, find something steady to hold on to. He felt Tucker tense beneath him, before jerking away.
“You ever consider that I- that we need you, too?” He spat back.
Wash waited for someone in the background to chime in with some kind of commentary on how gay this all was - he was betting on Simmons or Sarge. But nothing came. Radio silence from all corners. Of all the tense moments to not ruin with some kind of ridiculous quip. He took a deep breath, then unclipped his helmet. He was well aware that he looked like shit. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since he was 18, and had been greying since then too. He ran his fingers through his straggly hair, still short, but not the neat trim he liked. Wash always thought he’d head to his death looking cool, like from an old spy movie, all perfectly styled after a long Suit Up montage sequence and still young enough for people to think it was some big fucking tragedy. Now there was nobody left from before to mourn him, nobody who would even hear about it. There were just these guys. These dumb fucks who’d fought their way tooth and nail into his life. He looked around at all of them in turn, finally coming to rest on the man in front of him.
“You need to tell everyone what’s happened here, Tucker. You’re the only one I can trust to do it. You need to go back, tell someone, anyone who might be able to come and help, what the fuck has gone on here. I mean, can you imagine Caboose trying to tell this story?” He tried for a bit of humour, hoping to salvage something before it was too late, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. Tucker remained stoic and Wash’s eyes wrinkled up at the sides, squinting at his visor, “Tucker, for god’s sake, will you take that thing off? It’s the least you could do when I’m trying to talk to you. This is important.”
“Fuck you. Fuck you man!” Tucker yelled, not making any moves to take off his helmet, “You’re all ready to die and shit? Fine, fucking fine. If I cared - which I don’t - I could stop you. I could. But you know what, Wash? You’re not worth the effort. Because if you’re not running off to die today, and we all make it out of here on that ship, next week you’ll be giving another whole big ‘hey so I’m gonna go sacrifice myself for no reason whatsoever’ speech! It’ll just be the same bullshit over and over again. Well I’m done. You win. Have fun dying pointlessly, I’m sure it’ll make you very happy.”
“Alright, that’s enough, both of you,” Carolina finally interrupted, getting between them, “Despite what Tucker seems to think, this isn’t a debate. This is the plan, and we are sticking to it. You have ten minutes to get your shit together, equip yourself with whatever weapons you might need, then we’re sending you all to the ship site. Tucker,you come with me.”
Tucker looked like he might protest, but something in Carolina’s stance seemed to squash that thought before it came to anything. They marched off together behind one of the big rocks, leaving Wash standing in front of the remaining reds and blues, all of them still staring at him.
“Well, you heard her. Grab whatever you can. Go and do something useful,” he glared, all of them running off except Caboose.
“Are you really staying behind, Agent Washington?” the childish way Caboose spoke made it sound like an old war film, the father about to leave and the kids wondering why he had to go. Wash really needed to stop comparing his life to vintage movies.
“Yes, Caboose. I’m staying. I know it might seem hard to understand, but it’s for the best.”
“Ah no, yeah, I understand. You’re staying to make everything better for the people here on Coral! That’s a good thing for you to do, Agent Washington. I always said that you were a nice agent. Sometimes I might have said that you were a scary mean agent, but I probably did not mean that,” Caboose took off his own helmet, a smile spreading across his face. Wash found himself smiling back despite himself, it was pretty impossible not to.
“Thanks, buddy.”
Caboose’s face came over contemplative, which was in all honesty a fucking scary thing to witness, “You know, I told Church that we used you to replace him because there wasn’t a better word for what you did when you came and made us do all the fun stuff with the jungle gyms and the drilling stuff and like we were real soldiers and not just pretend soldiers. But, actually, I don’t think that’s right at all!”
Wash smiled sadly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, I’m no Church. He was your leader, your… best friend, I guess. I was never out to replace him, I know I couldn’t do that-”
“That’s not what I am saying!” Caboose looked annoyed, crossing his arms and humming, “It’s more thaaaat… I don’t think it’s right to say you replaced Church because you are not Church. Church was Church and you are Agent Washington. You’re different people and I’m glad that you are not Church, Agent Washington. I’m glad that you are you. Tucker is mad right now but he’s also glad that you are you. I think maybe that’s why he’s so mad, because if you stay behind here to help the Choir people, then you won’t be around anymore to be you. That would make Tucker sad, and me too.”
Wash blinked, letting that all settle in for a second. He remembered Grif had been telling him about the rebel soldier who had taken to seeing Caboose as some sort of blue messiah, and it was times like this he could see why that wouldn’t be a far stretch of the imagination. Halfway through that thought he found himself suddenly engulfed in arms, and higher off the ground that he was usually comfortable with.
“When you get back from helping here, you can help me make a new body for Freckles!” Caboose exclaimed, his bear hug squeezing the breath out of Wash, even through his armour.
“S-sure, Caboose. When I get back,” Wash wheezed, hands limply patting at Caboose’s back.
“Well isn’t this fucking touching,” Tucker deadpanned as Caboose dropped Wash, having emerged from his little meeting with Carolina. He was carrying his helmet at his side, eyes refusing to meet Wash’s as he walked over to them. “What, did I miss the Blue Team Group Hug memo? I’m devastated, truly.”
“Tucker-” Wash started, not ready to think about how he might end that sentence, not sure exactly what he was supposed to say to make this all okay when he suddenly found himself chest to chest with Tucker, nose to fucking nose with Tucker, and he had time to register the thought what the fucking holy fuck hell is fucking going on before he realised Caboose, the Big Friendly Fucking Giant, had swept them both up into his arms and was actually giving them a group hug. He had a perfect view of Tucker’s cheeks gradually getting darker and darker in frustration as he wriggled around in Caboose’s freaky strong grip. A few of his dreads collided with the side of Wash’s face in the struggle and god damn if there wasn’t still the smell of that coconut shit that Tucker used and had to keep hiding around the base all the time because Caboose would find it and eat it like peanut butter. How did his hair possibly still smell like that? They ran out of it a few days before Felix came by and the whole world went to shit. While he’d been with the Feds he thought a lot about that time they’d had in the crash site. About what he should have done, should have said. They’d had so much time then, and they’d wasted it on the stupidest shit. Story of Wash’s goddamn life. Literally.
Wash closed his eyes, letting himself relax. Fuck it. Everything was terrible and he was going to die fighting a war on a tiny planet in the darkest corner of the universe. He may as well let himself have this. He leant forwards, head resting on Tucker’s shoulder, bringing one arm up to wrap around the other man’s waist.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, cheek brushing against a few of the rough scratches in the teal armour. He thought to himself remember this, as though he had all the time in the world to forget. Tucker and Caboose were both still for a moment, before Tucker started struggling again.
“Wash, what the hell, stop- get off me dude! Seriously, get the fuck off, you don’t get to just- this doesn’t make it right! This isn’t something you can hug out! Caboose, put us down right the fuck now!”
Caboose obliged, setting them down and taking a step back. Wash peeled himself away from Tucker, now finding himself unable to meet the other’s gaze. “I always meant to leave. You know that. I was training you because you were always going to be the leader, Tucker. I’m not a leader. I’m not even a very good soldier. I’m just a guy trying to find his way back home.”
“God, do you ever listen to yourself?” Tucker’s mocking tone made Wash’s eyes snap to his in anger, “I’m just a guy trying to find his way back home? Really? That’s your line? You sound like a terrible indie movie starring the whitest guy who ever lived. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, dude, but there’s not a lot of home to find here. Unless ‘home’ is ‘your untimely death’ in which case, yes, congratulations, they have that in abundance! You know what your home really is though, Wash? You want an answer? Well, look the fuck around you. This is it. We’re it. The Reds, the Blues. Me. We’re it, dude.”
Wash felt his resolve crumbling slightly and cursed himself for letting these idiots in. He didn’t say you think I don’t know that? or of course you are, I don’t want to be anywhere else but here because then he’d go with them and he couldn’t go with them. Carolina wasn’t going to go with them because she was incredible, truly incredible, and good, and relatively unselfish, and fucking driven and would insist on staying here to deflect the mercenaries’ fire and try to take them down. What kind of asshole would let her do that alone with only Epsilon for company? It’s like Maine always used to say, “two guns are better than one”. Actually, Maine always used to say “two guns are better than one, but my gun is better than all other guns”.
“Alright, time’s up!” Wash started slightly as Carolina suddenly appeared beside him. He looked around and noticed the Reds had joined them, though he couldn’t say how long they’d been standing there for. Once again, everyone was watching him and Tucker, so he guessed they’d heard that last part. He sighed, looking at them resignedly.
“For the record, pretending that Red and Blue was actually a thing, fighting with you guys - fighting with you guys… was the most fun I’ve had in my whole life.”
“That is the most depressing thing anyone has said to me. Ever. Of all time,” Grif snorted, but his voice was warm. Simmons, by his side as per usual, heaved a long sigh, “Ah, what could have been. The order. The efficiency. The chore wheels…”
“Son, this is a damn brave thing you and Agent Carolina are doing,” Sarge’s Pep Talk voice was in full swing, but Wash had heard just about enough of that from everyone today, so he held up a hand in salute. Sarge actually goddamn swelled with pride and clammed up, returning the salute. Wash was pretty sure he heard Donut let out a sob, but for once, nobody commented. Slowly, the rest of the Blood Gulch crew did the same, all standing in a circle, saluting each other like fucking assholes.
“Yeah yeah, we’re all friends, friends love each other, give me a fucking break,” Epsilon, with perfect timing, appeared, “You guys need to go now. The window is closing. We’ve got about three minutes and… yeah, okay, seventeen seconds before shit starts going down. Huddle together, get to the ship.”
“Goodbye tiny Church!” Caboose frantically waved to the hologram, standing amongst the Reds now, “We will see you when you get back! It will be good to all be home again!”
“Yeah… see you there, buddy,” Epsilon even gave him a quick little wave as he moved to perch over Carolina’s shoulder, her hand already gripping the teleportation cube.
Wash went to stand beside her, but then a hand gripped his wrist and stopped him in his tracks. Tucker’s fingers were pressed painfully tight against his pulse, and Wash felt as though his head was going to explode with the resulting quick echoes of his heartbeat. “Finish this and then come home, you fucking cockbite.”
Wash didn’t, couldn’t, turn and face him. He just nodded - once, short and terse - and that must have been enough for Tucker because he let go. Wash took his place by Carolina’s side, back still turned to the gathered group. He heard Carolina give them their parting words, a final set of orders and a good luck, a few goodbyes, and then Epsilon told them one minute, they’ve got to go, now or never, and she threw the cube.
“Wash?” Carolina’s tone was gentle, guarded. He didn’t turn around fully, didn’t want to see the empty space that had been left behind. Wash regarded Carolina out the corner of his eye and felt remarkably glad that she was there, that they were still together. He could always count on her to have her game face on, focus on the matter at hand and take the shit that needed to be taken seriously, well, seriously. She smirked at him, pulling her helmet back on, “Come on, let’s go kill these fuckers so we can get you back in time for True Love’s Kiss.”
“I hate you. Can we please just go die heroically and pointlessly now?”
“Dude, I’ve been waiting for the sweet embrace of death since you guys started the big hug fest,” Epsilon snarked.
“I’ve reconsidered my position here. Is it too late to go get on the ship with the guys? Both of you are awful people and I don’t want to spend my last moments with you,” Washington pulled on his own helmet, following Carolina and Epsilon down the hill towards the Comms Tower they could just see looming in the distance, eyes constantly scanning the skies for any sign of movement. When they saw the ship finally rise up from the horizon and break out of the planet’s atmosphere, Wash felt his heart soar up and away with it. And in a lot of ways, it really had.