[ She trusts him. That's one of those things that have passed unspoken between them, but that doesn't it doesn't matter when she says it -- if anything it makes it more important, more significant, the things they actually choose to say aloud to one another. He trusts her too, of course he does, has his life staked on that trust, and he's sure she understands that even if he's never explicitly said it.
God, it might do them both good to stay away from her. He'd thought of it before when he spoke to Byerly, but Byerly has no reason to take his orders. He'll need to speak to Miles. He'll need to speak to him about the possibility of getting them both out of there. But god, they need the information now more than ever, don't they, but Wash wants them safe, both of them safe. People dying under his command is a fact of war, something that's damned well happened before, but that doesn't mean he's used to it, doesn't mean he's numb to it.
A breath, to clear his head, focus, focus, his thoughts racing and spinning but everything snaps into a moment of incredible clarity when Natasha keeps talking, when he hears the question. Killed one of his comrades. It is true. There was purpose behind it, he'd not done it without reason, he doesn't regret it and he'd do it again if he ever had to, but it's a weight on him even now. It doesn't matter how justified it was. In the end he'd still looked her right in the eye and didn't give her the time to so much as finish a sentence before he put a bullet straight through her skull.
He'd given Byerly that story. Proof of his loyalty, no, proof of his love, of how fiercely he cares for the people he calls his own, that even if Byerly will trust him with nothing else he can trust when he gives his word on that. He wouldn't keep it from Natasha, either, except for the part of him that knows that everything he shares with her he potentially shares with the enemy. So he just looks back at her, and he's thinking of that first conversation they had, too, the same weight to his tone. ]
She was a friend. [ So yes. It's true. And really, does it matter in the end if he gives her the story behind it? He'd still killed a friend. He'd still made sure no one would ever find her corpse. A pause, there, a tip of his head. She'd asked for a reason, he knows. ]
no subject
God, it might do them both good to stay away from her. He'd thought of it before when he spoke to Byerly, but Byerly has no reason to take his orders. He'll need to speak to Miles. He'll need to speak to him about the possibility of getting them both out of there. But god, they need the information now more than ever, don't they, but Wash wants them safe, both of them safe. People dying under his command is a fact of war, something that's damned well happened before, but that doesn't mean he's used to it, doesn't mean he's numb to it.
A breath, to clear his head, focus, focus, his thoughts racing and spinning but everything snaps into a moment of incredible clarity when Natasha keeps talking, when he hears the question. Killed one of his comrades. It is true. There was purpose behind it, he'd not done it without reason, he doesn't regret it and he'd do it again if he ever had to, but it's a weight on him even now. It doesn't matter how justified it was. In the end he'd still looked her right in the eye and didn't give her the time to so much as finish a sentence before he put a bullet straight through her skull.
He'd given Byerly that story. Proof of his loyalty, no, proof of his love, of how fiercely he cares for the people he calls his own, that even if Byerly will trust him with nothing else he can trust when he gives his word on that. He wouldn't keep it from Natasha, either, except for the part of him that knows that everything he shares with her he potentially shares with the enemy. So he just looks back at her, and he's thinking of that first conversation they had, too, the same weight to his tone. ]
She was a friend. [ So yes. It's true. And really, does it matter in the end if he gives her the story behind it? He'd still killed a friend. He'd still made sure no one would ever find her corpse. A pause, there, a tip of his head. She'd asked for a reason, he knows. ]