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“Tucker, please…”
“Sure. What is it?” He didn’t even hesitate. He was hovering over you like an angel of death. But not the kind that killed you, more like the kind that ushered you on your way. Your head was resting against the boulder you’d taken cover behind. The sounds of battle raged right around the corner. At least eight hostiles on your motion tracker alone. But you said ‘please’ so he didn’t hesitate. He’d pull a moon out of the sky if you asked him to.
Fuck.
You couldn’t ask for what you wanted. You weren’t hurt that bad. You could still fight as long as— ow. It was all you could do to breathe right now.
Stop faking it, you wuss. It’s just a bullet wound. Right. Unless it was two… or three… or— It was three. Get over yourself. Wan is missing half his head.
Tucker’s hand on your shoulder kept you pinned down. When did he get so strong? He didn’t. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and it took your strength with it. Shut up! That wasn’t as much as DiAngelo lost. And you’re even thinking clearly. “Wash, what is it?”
…please. No! Please? There were tears in your eyes now that had nothing to do with the pain. Ask him. You’re asking him to lie. “…T-Tucker?”
“I’m here. I’m right here. What is it?”
“Please—”
You cut yourself off. Tucker’s anxiety spiked. “ Yes! Whatever it is—! We’re fine! We’ll be fine! I’ll keep an eye on Caboose! You’re going to be fine!”
And now you’ve made him panic. You never say please, just—! Bite your tongue and get up before you make it worse. No, please! Another tear runs down your cheek. At least the helmet hides it. You have to say what you want so Tucker doesn’t assume the worst. Be honest to protect him.
…you know Tucker can’t give this to you, right? You know you’re actually asking yourself.
Yeah. You know.
Bullets chip pieces off the boulder before ricocheting away with little metallic pings.
You’re stalling.
“…don’t make me.”
He freezes. “…what?”
“Please... don’t make me get up. …that’s what I want. I want to sit here. It hurts. I’m done. Please don’t make me get up.”
You have a sneaking suspicion that Tucker is crying too. It’s hard to tell when he’s head to toe in bloodstained armor, though. “…I won’t.”
…I won’t.
You won’t.
It’s only afterward, when you’re lying in the hospital and Tucker’s asleep in the chair by the window, that you realize how badly you fucked up. You used this card on something stupid, and now it’s gone forever. Tucker saw how fragile you are. He’ll never rely on you as much as he did before.
Thank goodness.
Shut up. Tucker needs you. Now you’re untrustworthy. Now you have a limit. It was like finding a screw that can’t be tightened anymore because it stripped out its socket.
But you are Agent-goddamn-Washington, and you are not allowed to have a limit. You get up . You press on . You walk through fire like it’s rain . You aren’t allowed to be ‘done.’ Even when your career was over, even when you were certified article twelve, you weren’t done. You aren’t done.
And now you have to prove that to Tucker.
Now you have to prove that to yourself.
Dr. Grey is going to hate you.
She’s been on your case for months, telling you that you need to slow down. “Everyone has a limit, Agent Washington.”
You begged him to let you rest. You’ve always bounced back but, the thought of bouncing back drove you to tears. And he saw that. He knows now that when you get back on your feet, you don’t want to. Did you ever want to?
You had to.
Did you ever want to?
Tucker shifts in the chair, pulling his knees up to his chest. You wonder how long he’s been awake.
This isn’t his planet. This isn’t his fight. It’s not yours either. Neither of you has a reason to get back up. You can just stay down.
But you won’t. You don’t know how to. You never did.
Because you’re Agent-goddamn-Washington. If you’re not up, you’re just biding your time.
I don’t want to be Agent Washington.
What?
I don’t want to be Agent Washington. I think I want to be David again.
But Agent Washington was David’s only option. You can go back in time if you want, but you’ll always end up here.
You don’t really want to be David anyway. It’s much better to move forward.
What’s forward?
“…Wash? Are you awake?”
Wash.
You manage a nod because making sound is too much right now.
“…are you ok?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” Wash still bounces back.
“Are you sure? Because you sounded…”
Fear settled onto your chest. “‘I sounded’ what , Tucker?” You’d been delirious. It was nothing. Just laugh it off, Tucker, crack a joke. Agent Washington would never sound—
“…it sounded like you were in pain.”
Fuck.
“Small… terrified… broken . You… you begged me to let you stay down after you’d been shot .”
You could hear the tears at the edges of his voice. He was barely keeping it together.
“Is it because of them? It’s because of them, isn’t it? Th-they made you get up, didn’t they?”
You could feel the tears at the edges of your eyes. He wasn’t the only one barely keeping it together.
“Wash? Did they make you get up?”
…no?
Well, not technically , no. The Director never ordered you to recover quicker. But… if you washed out of the program…
You had nothing left.
So you got back up. You made yourself get back up. To prove to them that you were a worthwhile investment.
They certainly didn’t discourage that.
No. They were proud.
“…they didn’t make me get back up, Tucker.”
A moment passed. You wondered if he was going to leave it at that. “…who did?”
Because of course, he thinks someone did.
Because someone did.
“…I did.”
He just waited for you to say more.
“I made myself get up. I told you before; I was the worst fighter on my squad. Everyone else was better, stronger, faster, smarter. I was resilient. That was what I had. So I got up. Even when I didn’t want to. Even when I thought I couldn’t. They would laugh and say that nothing could keep me down. I would laugh and kill myself trying to prove them right. It was hell.”
“…damn.” The tears had moved to his cheeks. You could see the moonlight glistening off them out of the corner of your eye. Unless those were yours.
Damn is right.
But all of that is past tense. You said it in the past tense. You know that it’s past tense. You know exactly what Tucker’s going to say next.
“...it’s not like that anymore. Nobody’s keeping score. You can take a break. You can have an off day. This isn’t a competition. We’ve never thought like that and we aren't about to start now. There’s no leaderboard. No rankings. No positions. No one is going to take your spot, Wash.”
You can’t wash out of this.
You get that. You do. But… old habits die hard. And it is your spot. It’s not a competition anymore, but it’s still expected. They’ve come to expect that from you. That’s what Washington does. That’s why he… is. Caboose knows it; Sarge knows it; Grif and Simmons know it; even Donut and Doc know it. You can rely on Washington to get back up. Because if you can’t….
What can you rely on Washington for?
To be the paranoid, ex-special ops who’s used to being betrayed on a weekly basis. To shoot Donut for no reason other than that he was in your way. To hand a tracking device to Caboose because someone told you it was all that was left of the murderous robot he’d befriended because you couldn't fill the void that Church left.
Is getting back up your only redeeming trait?
….yeah?
“…Washington? We’re not judging you.”
I am.
“I know.”
You couldn’t let the silence stretch as long as you wanted to.
“Tucker…? If I… didn’t get up… if I could, but I didn’t, what would you do?”
“I would do the same thing I just did. I would stand guard over you like a fucking sentry until the shitshow died down, and then make sure you got to Dr. Grey. Because you trust her. For some reason.”
Several things caught your attention. First, ‘the same thing I just did.’ He doesn’t have to use his imagination, because you already didn’t get up. Second, ‘like a fucking sentry.’ The picture that those words painted is one you’ll revisit more than you’ll ever admit. Third, ‘because you trust her.’ Tucker knows that you’re not entirely comfortable around medical personnel and that Dr. Grey is the exception to every rule.
Tucker knows you.
Tucker’s the only one who knows you.
“...thanks.”
The steady beeping of the machines filled the silence.
“...Wash?”
“Hmm?”
“...don’t.”
….what?
“I mean, it’s fine. I get it. Everything I said before is true. We’re not going to make you get up. I’m not going to say, ‘please get up’ because I know you’ll take that as some kind of order, but… don’t scare me like that.”
Get up to prove you can.
“Just don’t cry wolf, I guess.”
“...I won’t.”
I won’t let you.