The problem is that there isn't really one, is there? What does he need right now. On a basic level, Wash could never know what York needs, they're different people, everyone processes information differently, but deeper than that, there's no right way to deal with the death of loved ones, let alone the idea that you yourself might be buried with them, somehow. Carolina had been the one good news that Wash was able to share, but that comes with it's own caveats, too. He won't pretend to know what their relationship was really like, but when he'd found York he looked to be alone, and Carolina was nowhere to be seen.
She went back, Wash thinks to himself. She went back for you, but he doesn't know if he should say it. Doesn't know if it'd help, if it'd just make things worse, if it's just pressing into a wound but not really helping.
Time's the closest thing to an answer there is, but it's a fucking garbage answer and Wash knows that. All time has done is helped him distance himself from things that happened, and he still spent years and years dragging himself through that quagmire, stumbling and lost in the fog, and every now and then he still spirals down and down and has to claw his way back out. Almost ten years and the nightmares still haven't gone away. He just expects them, now. They sting less. There's little his mind can imagine that surprises him, anymore, and he's learned not to sleep rather than wake up screaming.
He keeps his hand where it is. ]
I'm here. We both are. Just -- remember that. [ The words feel empty even when he says it, a platitude. It's still important to remember, but he knows it does nothing to really heal anything. Wash tightens his grip over his shoulder, gives him a wry smile. ] But hey, in case you're considering dedicating your life to getting some kind of payback?
Tried it. Wouldn't recommend it. [ A huff, not quite a laugh, but he's still clearly trying to bring light to the situation -- the way York had always done, back in Freelancer. God, how all that just slips away. ] There -- at least now you'll do better than me.
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The problem is that there isn't really one, is there? What does he need right now. On a basic level, Wash could never know what York needs, they're different people, everyone processes information differently, but deeper than that, there's no right way to deal with the death of loved ones, let alone the idea that you yourself might be buried with them, somehow. Carolina had been the one good news that Wash was able to share, but that comes with it's own caveats, too. He won't pretend to know what their relationship was really like, but when he'd found York he looked to be alone, and Carolina was nowhere to be seen.
She went back, Wash thinks to himself. She went back for you, but he doesn't know if he should say it. Doesn't know if it'd help, if it'd just make things worse, if it's just pressing into a wound but not really helping.
Time's the closest thing to an answer there is, but it's a fucking garbage answer and Wash knows that. All time has done is helped him distance himself from things that happened, and he still spent years and years dragging himself through that quagmire, stumbling and lost in the fog, and every now and then he still spirals down and down and has to claw his way back out. Almost ten years and the nightmares still haven't gone away. He just expects them, now. They sting less. There's little his mind can imagine that surprises him, anymore, and he's learned not to sleep rather than wake up screaming.
He keeps his hand where it is. ]
I'm here. We both are. Just -- remember that. [ The words feel empty even when he says it, a platitude. It's still important to remember, but he knows it does nothing to really heal anything. Wash tightens his grip over his shoulder, gives him a wry smile. ] But hey, in case you're considering dedicating your life to getting some kind of payback?
Tried it. Wouldn't recommend it. [ A huff, not quite a laugh, but he's still clearly trying to bring light to the situation -- the way York had always done, back in Freelancer. God, how all that just slips away. ] There -- at least now you'll do better than me.