gunsforhire | Log: All The Small Things

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Log: All The Small Things

Who: Wash (OU) and you!
What: Wash has completed his first job as a mercenary and is out to celebrate it
Where: Out and about in town, picking up some better equipment, and then to the Eagle and Asp for a drink
When: Afternoon to night 29/11
Warnings: None so far

It hadn't been the most glamorous of jobs, but any notion of glamour had been beaten out of him practically the day he'd enlisted. The important thing was that his first job as a registered mercenary had gone well and that was the first step to being able to take care of himself without having to rely on other people. Sure, it would take a few more jobs before he felt comfortable, but it was a start.

That was cause enough for celebration, right?

His first step is to head out to a supplier to stock up on equipment. Nothing fancy for now, but enough to get him started. A good gun or two, and a solid combat knife.

There's other things that he needs, an almost overwhelming amount, he realises now that he has the money to start thinking about it. Clothes that aren't fatigues or armour, and there's so many different kinds that it takes him far longer than it should to pick out what he needs.

And once that's done, he heads to the Eagle and Asp for a drink. It feels appropriate somehow.

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"This is pointless," Wash says bluntly, ignoring his double and the sarcasm lacing his words. "I'm a monster, he's a- a child. This is never going to work."

He stands up quickly, pulling out a credit chip to pay for his own drinks.

Jesus Christ, it's like trying to get blood out of a couple of rocks. At least Wash is somewhat trying.

'Out of the four statements you just made, none of them were right,' he says. 'Sit back down, we're not done here.'

"Fuck you," Wash says, bluntly. Just because he's not a jaded asshole doesn't mean he's a child. Wash doesn't feel like one, anyway.

He sighs, and turns back to York. "What do you even hope to accomplish? That we'll be frolicking in the fields of friendship by the end of the night?" Cause that's not going to happen.

He's pretty certain he's right about them. Looking at his other self is painful. And knowing that he could end up like him eventually, with the wrong nudges. He doesn't sit down again, but folds his arms across his chest stubbornly, glaring at both of them. He's only here because he's indebted to York.

And yeah, York, what the hell are you hoping for? He's a lost cause. His double is already York's best friend. What's the point?

'That would require fields to frolic in and a very sudden and dramatic t-shange of heart from you both,' he retorts. 'This is going to take time, I get that. But you need to learn that he's not all bad and maybe get to understand the situation better so you can avoid ending up the same way. And you' he turns to the Other Wash 'hate yourself enough without adding the hate of another version of you. Things being like this isn't going to help anything, so why not try and make things better?'

Wash doesn't care about frolicking or making friends with his double, but he really, really doesn't want to be anything like the other Wash. He doesn't want killing and bitterness and a soldier-esque lifestyle to corrupt him, to make him into something he's not. Wash wants to be a good person, and it pisses him off that his double can't see that that's an important thing to be.

"Fine," he agrees at last, deflating a bit. "But I'm not sure if something like this gets better."

"Just what I want," Wash says bitterly, "to be a cautionary tale. I did what I had to stay alive."

He meets York's gaze stubbornly, jaw set. Because it's true. That's the worst thing. He does hate himself. He can't fix things at home. Finally he sits back down, still stubborn and sullen and angry.

Okay, so that was bad phrasing on his part. 'Sorry,' he says, running his hand through his hair. 'I know you did, I'm sorry. Just... this isn't going to help anyone, both of you being like this.' And he wants to help. He really does.

No, other self, you're not a cautionary tale. You're a fucking role model. The word choice doesn't bother Wash at all. It's the least-bullshitty thing that's been said all evening.

The thing is, the other Wash doesn't have to keep being a cautionary tale. The fact that he's so dead-set on it is pretty irritating. Wash sighs.

"And how can I help? I'm useless, remember?" Wash delivers the last sentence to his other self rather than to York. He's throwing his twin's hurtful words right back at him.

"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.

'Whoa! Okay, time out!' This suddenly went way too far. Holy shit. 'Let's take a second to breathe, alright?' He runs one hand through his hair and resists the temptation to tug on it with frustration.

'Look, we're going to do everything we can to help you' he looks at Other Wash 'and make sure you' he looks back to Wash 'don't have to go through anything like that.' Sighing, he turns to Other Wash again. 'I can only imagine how difficult this is for you, but we want to help. Or I do, anyway.'

Wash's reaction isn't nearly as level-headed as York's. "What the hell do you want me to say? I'm sorry I'm not you?" Because Wash isn't sorry that he isn't his double, not one bit. Wash wants to believe he can still be a decent person, even if he is a mercenary.

The sight of his other self just reminds Wash how damn naive that idea is. How stupid he is.

He jerks around to face York and then turns back to face the bar, looking away from them both. This is awful. He wishes he'd left straight away. He can't do this. It's a terrible idea and he doesn't even deserve any kind of second chance. He digs his thumb into a groove in the wood of the bar, drags his nail along the length of it.

"I can't stop being who I am," he says flatly. "I can't be fixed. I'm sorry I'm a fucking awful person."

'For the love of-- Wash, quit shouting!' Okay, slight hypocrisy there... He drags his hand down his face. 'Sorry. Just... will you please at least try and calm down a bit.' This is just getting worse.

'Maybe not the whole way, but that doesn't mean you can't get better,' he insists. 'Far as I can see, you already have got a bit better since you got here.'

"I am not shouting," Wash says, in a slightly more controlled tone. "I am being perfectly reasonable." Maybe if Wash says that, it'll become true, because he doesn't feel reasonable inside. He feels confused, angry, and maybe just a little bit sad by the fact that he knows he can't do anything, even if he wanted to. His other self is right about one thing. Sometimes, when you cross a line, there's no going back.

Above all, Wash is afraid he'll cross that line too.

"Exactly," Wash says to his double. "Which is why I'm trying my goddam hardest to keep my shit together."

Wash blinks and stares at York for a moment, suspicious, as though he thinks what he's saying is some kind of trick. "You think?"

He doesn't feel better. He just feels so out of his depth and the most familiar thing here is being a mercenary because at least violence he can do. It's comforting in some kind of messed up way.

He gives the other Wash a sideways look. "I survived. If I'd stayed the same then I would have died or worse."

'You're not now,' he allows. And then he goes and ruins it and York just wants to shake him. 'However, shouting or not, that isn't helping anything. And is also not true.' He glares at him, the turns to the other Wash, hoping to salvage some of the situation.

'Absolutely. You would have left and probably punt-shed me by now if I'd tried to make you two have this conversation in the first days after you got here and we met. Also you're mut-sh more accepting that I'm trying and want to help now than you were. And you've been smiling more.'

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Log: All The Small Things

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