#washilon

You’re screaming at a nurse. She isn’t helping you. She isn’t helping him.

Who is he? Is he you?

People try to ask you questions. People try to sedate you. You think you give an answer. You think you get sedated.

please, make it stop.

You don’t know who that is. Are you the one begging? What are you begging for?

help.

Help.

You want to help him. You want to help yourself. You want help. You want it to stop.

You think you wake up. You think you get sedated.

Is this a dream? Have you ever been awake?

You’re inside your own mind. It isn’t your own anymore. Have you ever not been inside your own mind? Has it ever really been yours?

Nothing is real here. But the ground feels more solid than it does out there. You can make out the shape of you. You can make out the shape of…

“Hello?”

please

“Who are you?” But who are you?

please. help me.

“I will. I’ll help you.” You will. You’ll help him. “How do I help you? Who are you?”

i cant. i’m not. please.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” You don’t understand. You’re crying. No, he’s crying. No, you’re him and he’s you and you’re both crying.

You need help. He needs help. Why isn’t anyone helping?

The ground feels more stable here. But not by much. You can make out the shape of him. He looks like you. Or maybe, you look like him.

Or maybe, both of you have the same shape.

“I want to help. Please. Who are you? How can I help?”

You move towards him. You don’t get any closer.

He grabs you. He doesn’t get any closer. He’s hurting. You’re hurting.

He’s hurting you.

You pull away.

The ground is more stable here, but not by much. You pull away, and you fall. You fall. You wake up.

“Agent Washington.”

The ground is more stable. You’re in a bed. Who are you?

“Who are you?”

A pause. “I am the Counselor of Project Freelancer.”

please.

His smile is pleasant. His voice is soft. His eyes are warm.

no.

You know who he is. You do not know who he is.

don’t

You don’t trust him.

“Can you tell me who you are?”

Yes. You lie. You repeat the name he said.

“Correct, that’s good. You are Agent Washington. Do you know where you are?”

You’re in a bed.

“You are in a bed, that’s right. Can you tell me where that bed is?”

help me.

You know how to help.

Your wrist breaks as you lunge forward, snapping the weaker plastic bed post you were cuffed to. It hurts.

But you’ve hurt worse.

Your hands wrap around his neck, your teeth sink into his flesh.

If you don’t know who you are, you know what you are. You’re an animal. Feral. No, you’re a guard dog. Domesticated, chained. You protect, with claws and with teeth and with violence, you do what you have to do.

Hands are grabbing at you, pulling you away, holding you down. You come away with the taste of blood in your mouth. His? Or yours?

They’re hurting you. Beating you? Maybe it’s just because of your own flailing. Maybe they’re trying to make it hurt.

You’re saying something. Is that you? You’re screaming something. You can’t understand yourself.

People are talking to you. At least you think they are. They must be talking to someone. They must be saying something.

There must be something to say.

You’re being sedated. You think you fall asleep.

You think you wake up.

You think you’re inside your mind. You don’t recognize it, anymore. You’re not sure if you ever would have.

The ground is more stable here. The ground is less stable here. There is no ground. Are you stable?

please

“I’m trying.” You did try something. Didn’t you? You can’t really remember. You’re not sure who that was.

please.

“I’m sorry.” Who are you sorry to? Yourself?

You’re inside your own mind. It’s only you. But you’re in here, too. Maybe you’re both you.

“Who are you?”

who are you?

“I don’t know.” You tell the truth. You lie. You know who you are. Don’t you?

“I’m David.” Are you?

“I’m Agent Washington.” Are you?

“I’m Wash.” Are you?

“I’m Church.” You’re Church.

What?

Who is Church?

“Who am I?”

i don’t know

You don’t know.

“I’m sorry.”

i’m sorry

You’re sorry. You’re not sure what you’re sorry for.

You walk towards him. You walk towards yourself. You don’t get any closer. You’re right on top of him.

He’s hurting. You’re hurting. You’re hurting yourself.

You’re no stranger to hurting yourself.

He grabs you. You hold him.

Something is wrong. Everything is wrong. You don’t know how to fix it.

it can’t be fixed

You can’t be fixed.

please fix me

You hold him. You hold yourself. Is there a difference? Has there ever been a difference?

Has there ever been a you?

Who are you? It’s always been a lie. You’re whatever they need you to be. The rookie. The victim. The bully. The savior. The martyr. The mutineer. The soldier.

The soldier.

You have always been you.

Just a dog, lashing out. Baring its teeth. Pretending it’s something that can be loved.

When everyone else knows that it’s just something that needs to be put down.

You’ve always been you. But you’ve never been you.

Who are you?

i’m sorry

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how.”

i know

You hold him. He holds you. There is no difference.

To call it love would be a misnomer. The word love has never been big enough. Never gone deep enough. Nothing has ever gone deeper than the two of you have.

No word in any language has ever come close to describing what you two are. Who you two are.

It is deep. It is all encompassing. It is everything. You are everything.

please

“I’m here.”

You’re with him. Deep within him. Deep within you. The barriers of the mind do not exist. The limits of the flesh are inconsequential. You are the mind. You are the flesh. Your teeth sink into you.

Love could never be a big enough word to describe it.

*********

You wake up. Or…

Wash woke up.

The ground was stable. It felt wrong to be stable.

“Mornin’, sleepy head.”

Wash flinched at the voice. He knew who it was, but it didn’t register yet.

Instead he registered himself. He found himself on the floor of a pelican. (Maybe one day he could question how he recognized the floor of a pelican better than he recognized himself). He was still wearing a hospital gown, except now it was covered in dried blood. Was this his? Or someone else’s? He definitely hurt enough for it to have been his, but trying to find a source of the pain proved fruitless. It just hurt everywhere.

But especially his head.

His head.

He tried to think about his head, but his mind fell short.

There was something missing.

Where was he?

“Y’alright?” He could register the other person now. York’s warm brown eyes looked down at him, wearing a pleasant expression that Wash recognized as being unpleasant.

“Where… Why… What…?” He couldn’t get his mind straight enough to know what to ask. His throat hurt too much to speak, anyway.

“What happened? Well, when D and I were making our escape, having completely failed to save a single fucking person that we came in for, I was feeling pretty dejected. But, stroke of luck, guess who I find stowed away in my getaway ship, begging me to get him out of there.”

“…Me?”

York laughs. “Yeah, you. Now, if that’s a stroke of good luck, or bad luck? Guess we’ll find out.”

York’s grim smile barely met his eyes.

Wash didnt know what to say, to that. It hurt too much to speak, anyway.

“Yknow, Delta said we should’ve left you there—”

“Do not misquote me. I merely made the assessment that we would not be able to provide the proper medical care for Agent Washington’s condition.”

His condition…?

York shrugged easily. “We did all right so far.”

“That is because he hasn’t registered it yet.”

“Well, don't say that…”

Something’s missing.

Wash’s hand shot to the back of his head in a panic.

“Where—”

“Relax.” York moved his open palms towards Wash. A showing of submission. A threat to hold him down if he fights back. “You still have it. Delta just helped get it offline.”

This did not make Wash relax. “Offline?”

“You require rest.” Delta’s voice emanated from somewhere on York. “Your sleep with Epsilon active had more elevated levels of brain activity than most people do awake. You are operating on nearly two weeks of sleep deprivation.”

Epsilon. Wash hadn’t heard anything else Delta had said. The name cut through him. Him. You. Where are you? Where was he? “No, I- I need, I need to—”

“Hey, hey.” The palms found themselves on his shoulders. Firm. Not an act of aggression. But it could be. “You don’t need to do anything, okay?”

“No, he’s, we— I need, help, it isn’t, there’s still—”

“We’ll get help, okay? But right now we just need to calm down. We’re safe, here.”

“For now.”

“Not helping, D.”

“I told you we were not equipped to handle this.”

“It’s fine. We’re fine. Right Wash? We’re fine?”

Things didn’t feel fine.

Wash kept struggling. His body was so weak he could barely shake a hand off, just for it easily to be put back on.

York sighs. “D, can we turn it back on?”

“His mind needs time away—”

“You know he’s not gonna calm down until he knows it’s safe.”

Wash couldn’t exactly think straight, any parts of his mind that could now dedicated to figuring out how to take York down. But, far later than would be considered typical, he registered what they were saying.

He froze his struggling. His hand gripped York’s wrist. “Please.”

York gestured vaguely.

Delta let out a calculated, artificial sigh. “Fine. But be prepared to hold him down. And do not say I didn’t warn you.”

Wash felt like he waited forever for something to happen.

And it happened in an instant.

***

He hadn’t registered how quiet it had been until he was thrust back into the loud.

Maybe a part of him regretted leaving behind the quiet,

i’m sorry

But, more honestly, he knew it had never been quiet.

“Hey.”

The ground was more stable here.

You can make out the shape of yourself. Wash could make out the shape of himself.

“Are you okay?”

There is no reality to describe the shape of you in.

But he can try.

“…Did you get me out of there?”

Wash moves towards you. He moved towards him. You’ll move towards yourself.

i’m sorry

“Don’t be. You saved me.” You saved me. “You saved us. Right?”

i don’t know

“I don’t think I know, either.”

The shape of you curls in on itself. The shape of you reached out to hold him.

Wash reached out to him.

“Who are you?”

i don’t know

“I don’t— I think I do. Do you know who I am?”

you saved me

“Me? I didn’t do anything.”

…well you bit him.

“Oh. Right. I… forgot about that.”

to protect me.

“Did that… actually do anything?”

…………………no……

“Well. I never liked him anyway.”

You laugh. You laugh. They both laughed.

Neither of them had ever laughed before.

It was nice.

“Do you know who you are?”

It was hard to think. It had never been easy to think, but it was hard to think. He shouldn’t have asked that. That’s all right. He didn’t need to ask.

“I know who you are.” Did he? Do you? Can anyone know?

“You’re Epsilon, right?”

…

…

…

i don’t know

“…Maybe we can’t know.”

who are you?

Maybe you shouldn’t have asked that. Maybe it was the only question you could have.

“I don’t know.” Is that true?

“I’m…” Is that true?

“I’m Wash.” Is that true?

wash. Yeah. you’re pretty sure it is.

…

…

…

im epsilon.

“Hi, Epsilon.”

You smile. Wash smiled. Reality bended around the shape of you to form into a smile.

And Epsilon smiled.

***

York watched over him as Wash slept soundly

“Told ya we needed to put him online.”

“Hmm.” Delta frowned at the sleeping pair. “Time will tell.”

“Can never let me have a win, can you.” York threw a jacket over the rookie and started back to navigation. “Come on, help me figure out a safe place to drop ‘em off, yeah?”

“I let you have wins when you earn them.” Delta kept his attention on them for a moment longer. “But I hope you are right.”

“Hope, huh?”

“Do not take that tone. Hope is simply having a preference for certain statistical outcomes over other ones. There’s nothing illogical about wanting things to occur favorably.”

York laughs. “Sure, D. Maybe you can share some of that hope with me, yeah?”

York looks back at the shape of his sleeping ex-teammate.