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When they ask, Tucker tells them that it's like waking up from the longest, shittiest nightmare known to man. What he doesn't tell them is that he doesn't remember most of it, except that he remembers everything. It felt like the worst drug trip ever combined with being possessed around by a homicidal ghost. In short, it was quite literally the worst. He remembers the early days with Wash, when he jumped at every little sound and looked like a stiff breeze might blow him over, except that he also could throw knives with pin-point accuracy. He remembers how Wash refused to sleep in the same goddamn building as them because he was afraid he would hurt them. Tucker didn't get it back then, not really. He gets it now.
Caboose's throat is still ringed with bruises. They stand out dark on his skin, purple and red and sickly yellow-green. It makes Tucker want to throw up every time he looks at them. You did that, the voices in his head whisper, you hurt him, and he would've let you kill him, too. They're right, is the thing. Caboose would've let Tucker kill him, was going to let Tucker kill him. He still remembers the way his neck felt under his hands, the hummingbird's wing beat of his pulse, the way the tendons bent and gave and almost snapped.
He didn't kill Caboose. But he still killed one of his people. And the thing is, he's killed people before; he killed people on Chorus and before that. But never someone he really gave a shit about, never one of their own. He killed Sarge. And that's something he's never going to forgive himself for. Sarge is buried outside Red Base, which is empty now save for Lopez. Simmons left for Earth a week after Grif, his things packed in a military-issued duffel bag and a smile on his face. Tucker remembers a moment back on Chorus, a few months before the end of the war, when Grif had asked him a question.
"So are you and Wash a thing?"
"What the fuck?" Tucker had asked, almost spilling his beer. "Why would you- No?"
"Forget I asked," he'd said, turning away, arms crossed.
"Nah, I'm not gonna just forget that, what the fuck!" he'd snapped. "Does it seem like we are?"
Grif shrugged. "Maybe, man. I don't know. I just... Me and Simmons."
He raised an eyebrow, "What about you and Simmons?" even though he thinks he knows where this is going.
"I keep thinking," Grif said after minute, "After this all, what are we even gonna do? I don't know what my life looks like without him. Without all of this shit."
"Well then why don't you marry the guy and get it over with," Tucker had laughed, "I bet Donut would be thrilled to plan a wedding."
Grif pointed at him, "Don't even go there."
No one's heard from Donut since the end of the war. He'd disappeared after Doc died, and dammit, Tucker misses him. They weren't close, not like the Donut was with the Reds, but they'd spent time in the desert together and that had to count for something. They were friends, once. Now it feels like Tucker just keeps losing more and more of those. He's right back where it all started, in more ways then one. He still hasn't worked up the nerve to open up the comm channel Simmons set up before he left. What would he even say? Sorry I killed your psuedo-father figure while possessed by an evil AI? Fuck that. The last thing those two need is to hear from him. He's done enough damage.
Carolina's wrist is broken, and so is Wash's leg. He's only directly responsible for one of those things. Still, he might as well have been the one to snap Wash's leg, because it's still his fault in the end. He killed Sarge. He almost killed Caboose. He broke Carolina's wrist. He fucked everything up. How does he even begin to fix this?
"Tucker," someone says, and he flinches because he's not sure if it's inside his head or not. He's had enough of the voices, enough of seeing the people he loves die. "Tucker. Tuckertuckertuckertuck-"
"Jesus christ, what!" he snaps.
Caboose blinks at him, brown eyes wide and guileless. "You were twitching again. And talking to yourself like Wash does. Oh! Are you seeing Mister Doctor like Washington was?"
It takes him a minute to roll that sentence around in his head. He squints at Caboose, "No, I'm not talking to Doc. I'm just tired." He rubs his eyes, looking at the bruises on Caboose's neck. They've faded more. That's good. "What do you want?"
"I want to watch a movie," Caboose says.
"So do that."
"I want to watch a movie with you, Tucker," Caboose says, like he's being stupid.
"No, man, watch it by yourself," he says. "I've got other shit to do."
Caboose pouts, "Washington said you need to talk to real people."
"Tell him to say that to my face," Tucker snaps. Caboose continues pouting. "Jesus," he sighs, "Fine, what movie?"
"Airbud."
Tucker closes his eyes, "S'at the one with the dogs?"
"Yes, and the dogs play basketball," Caboose adds earnestly.
"Fuck it," he sighs, "Sure."
They watch Airbud and Tucker spends most of the movie staring at the bruises on Caboose's neck because that's his fault. It's all his fucking fault. And Caboose, for all his faults, can be pretty fucking observant when he wants to be.
"You are not looking at the dogs," he points out about halfway through the movie, "Does basketball make you sad?"
Tucker blinks, taken off guard. "Why the hell would basketball make me sad?"
"Junior plays basketball, and you have not talked to him in a long time," Caboose says, chin tilted up like he thinks Tucker's being stupid.
His chest tightens. He's been trying not to think about Junior, because those fucking AIs forced him to watch his kid die over and over and over again right alongside Wash and Caboose and everyone else. He knows his kid is strong. His kid is the fucking best. But no kid should have to fight their parent, and that's exactly what they'd threatened to make him do.
"Shut up," he snaps, but his voice is shaky. "Just, fucking shut up, Caboose."
"It's okay to be sad, Tucker," Caboose says, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder.
He flinches. Caboose stops, tilts his head. "You are acting like Washington when he was Church, Tucker."
"Fuck!" he snaps, head in between his knees, "FUCK!" He doesn't know why, but those words hit him like a physical blow. Maybe it's because every time he thinks of Wash when they first met him, he thinks of something broken. He doesn't want to be broken.
Carolina sticks her head into the room, "Is everything okay?"
"Tucker is upset," Caboose says solemnly.
"I'm fine," he says, but his voice breaks, "Shit. I just- shit."
"You know I still hear him sometimes," Carolina says after a moment, "Epsilon."
He looks up. Her face is blank, but there's a crinkle to her eyes that he knows means kindness. "He was a prick," Tucker mutters.
She laughs, leaning against the door frame. "He was."
"I miss him," Caboose says suddenly, "I miss Church."
Tucker sighs, chest aching, "I know."
They don't talk about it more, but Carolina does sit with them while they finish the movie. Tucker can't find it in himself to make a joke, not even when she leans against him. He feels like a ghost of himself, like someone scooped his heart out with a rusty spoon and sewed his chest back up. He spends the rest of the night in his room, because he can't handle them looking at him like he's about to break. Wash knocks on his door, a plate of food in his hand, and Tucker thinks about how it used to be the other way around. They haven't really talked about it. They were almost, maybe, a thing back on Chorus. He remembers wanting to kiss Wash so bad it hurt, but never finding the right time. It isn't fair to either of them to bring that up now.
"I'm sorry," Wash says, looking like a kicked puppy as he sits down on the bed, "I'm sorry I didn't come find you. I should've known this would happen."
"It's not your fault," Tucker tells him, and he hates the way his voice sounds like it's going to snap under the weight of this conversation.
Wash shakes his head, "I should've known-"
"Dude, how could you have? We were all fucked up afterwards." He takes Wash's hand, and squeezes it. "I'm just glad you're not seeing things anymore. It-" he shakes his head, because Wash after Chorus was a special kind of lost. "I'm glad you're here," he swallows, "I'm glad you're here with me."
Wash looks at him. "I'm glad, too, Tucker." He laces their fingers together, and it feels almost like a beginning.
Later, when he can't sleep, he visits Church's grave. It's not really a grave. There was no body to bury or anything, just that stupid memory unit that he almost killed Caboose to get. If anything, it was more like when you're a kid and you insist on having a funeral for the family pet and you bury it in the backyard. But he visits it anyway, no flowers because he's not sentimental or anything.
"Hey asshole," he says to the shitty Star of David Caboose made out of scrap metal.
No reply, but then what was he expecting. The only time he hears Church's voice is when he's screaming in his nightmares. It's just. He can't quite believe he's never coming back.
"Caboose misses you," he continues, because he's not going to talk about himself. "You really did a number on him, y'know? I keep thinking about back when we all were here the first time. Is it fucked that I kind of miss it?"
Is it fucked that i kind of miss you?
"It was fake, and shitty, and completely meaningless. But I miss it, because at least we were all alive. At least I wasn't fucked in the head." His voice breaks, "Did you know? Man, did you know what was gonna happen to me?" He blinks up at the stars, trying not to cry. "You were my best friend, but whatever. Enjoy eternal bliss, you bastard."
He leaves, and doesn't look back. It feels almost like an ending.