"Yes," Wash says bluntly and he turns to look his double square in the face. "You're a giant goddam neon sign over every way I failed and everything I fucking lost." He gives a soft laugh that's just a shade short of hysterical and definitely of arguable sanity. "And I don't know what's worse. Seeing you have everything I lost, or waiting around and wondering when you're gonna get fucked over too and I'll have to see myself break from the outside."

He hates it. He hates a lot of things, a low-burning fire that has kept him going. He'd had to become like this. It was the only way to survive. And going back isn't an option. But fuck, it hurts to see his past flung back at him.