The right thing. [ Wash doesn't know if it was the right thing. He shakes his head a little, with a laugh, dry, hollow, pained. ] would've gone back. Would've gone right back without a plan or even a sliver of a chance, knowing that you were over here, that here we could at least regroup and plan --

[ Thank god for Maine. Chalk another one on the board for a time Maine's saved his life, that still outnumbers the times the Meta's tried to kill him, at least. He shakes his head, breathe in, breathe out, forcing his grip to relax over her arm, though he keeps his hand where it is. His other hand moves up, raking through his hair, tired, always tired, his eyes falling shut, breathe in, breathe out. Calmer, now.

He's always been good with holding things back. He just feels less need to, with Carolina, but his damned guilt is going to do nothing for them now. Wash opens his eyes again, gives himself a few moments to make sure, before he looks up at her, manages a smile. ]

It's real good to see you. [ A slight squeeze over her arm, unsaid, but clear enough: Thanks. Thanks for being here, when I woke up. And as Wash is wont to do, an immediate refocusing on something more immediate, more practical; ] How long was I out?