Chapter Text
Cold air blows between the boards of the ship, icy sea water dripping through the ceiling and into blond hair. His clothing, closer to torn rags than a shirt and pants, sticks to his skin with the moisture. His body has long since given up any warmth it had at the start of the journey and instead he simply shivers, huddles and tries to blow some sort of warmth back into his cuffed hands.
Before all of this, Wash had used to love the sea, the freedom the open ocean promised when you took a boat into its waves. He would go out for days, weeks or months at a time, basking in the warmth of the sun and the salty spray of the foamy waves.
The ocean had called him, promised him a home that he hadn’t ever found on land.
And so Wash had gone.
He found a ship looking for a crew who didn’t ask questions, who didn’t care about his age or where he’d come from. He found friends, what he thought was a family, but nothing had been what it seemed. Instead of finding safety, all he found was betrayal.
The family he thought he had, ran when they could until he was the only one left and was punished for the acts of the others.
Alone now and empty, Wash sits in his cell.
The waves toss and roll against the side of the ship and Wash waits.
He doesn’t know what he waits for but it certainly isn’t the explosion that throws the ship hard to the side. The wood groans, the ship rocking angrily in the water as another explosion rips through above.
Wash is thrown, the chains the only thing stopping him from hitting the walls. They wrench him still with rattling moans, his bones screaming in protest.
A groan falls from his lips, head dropping between his shoulders as muscles throb. Water drips down to hit his forehead, creeps along the walls. The icy cold of it sends painful shocks through Wash’s nerves, making his mind light up with warning bells. Whatever exploded, whatever is happening on the ship, it's now filling with water and ships tend not to do well when filled with water.
Wash lifts his head for the first time in what feels like forever, tugs at the chains holding him prisoner. He can hear people moving above, shouting as they try to stop the ship from its likely inevitable demise.
“H-he-” Wash chokes on his words, throat dry from disuse. “Hey!” Water sloshes around his legs, the cold snapping deep into his muscles. Everything screams with the pain of it. “Hey! I’m still down here!”
Another blast of something goes off and a gush of water crashes through the ceiling, drenching over him. Wash sputters, coughs as sea water fills his mouth and lungs.
There are more shouts from above, screams to abandon ship and Wash feels any hope he had, flicker and die.
The ship lurches again, followed by yelling and then more cold, icy and black grabbing onto him with hooked fingers that stab into his skin.
Wash feels the water crush in around him, deep and dark and painful as it drags him below. His lungs burn, demand air that Wash can’t get and the light of the surface fades from view. He hadn’t planned on dying, he hadn’t planned on lots of things but it seems fate has different ideas.
Strange how the ocean has a way of bringing you home.