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who. washington and york [cr aus]
what. wash opens up about his feelings. no, not those feelings.
where. the quad
when. backdated to mid-march, a few days after after this log [fixing some character development issues]
warnings. none

As far as Wash can tell, The Quad isn't used to having a diverse clientele. He hasn't had much experience with krogans himself, but that was more out of self-preservation than anything else. 'Course, York had never been much for that. Probably how she landed the job.

It's not that long into her shift that he slips inside, and though there's a group of krogans near the back that look like they're already well into their cups, there's not too much activity up at the bar. Wash slides into a seat by the back wall and raises his hand to signal the bartender, lips curling up when he catches her eye.

"So, you do sell real alcohol here, right?"

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York wasn't expecting Wash to show up, at least not without warning, but she'd be lying if she said it wasn't good to see him. She grins back at him, making her way over.

"I dunno, man. Some of this stuff tastes an awful lot like it was made in a prison toilet, but then again, maybe I just haven't developed a taste for ryncol yet."

"You haven't developed the liver for ryncol, human," scoffs a battle-scarred krogan as he comes out of the back room, drying his hands with a rag. He stops to peer at Wash, leaning in to give him a thoroughly appraising look with narrowed eyes. "Who's this? Friend of yours? How does he handle his liquor?"

Wash is ready to throw a quip back at her, but the sight of the krogan is enough to give him pause. He's seen plenty of them around, and spoken to a few, but never quite like this. "I handle it fine," Wash says, keeping his tone as even as he can, and glances back to York. "Just give me whatever scotch you have. Think I need it."

Davrax doesn't look all that fazed by the fact that Wash is obviously not used to talking to krogan. "Scotch? Make sure you give him the good stuff, then," he says with a smile that's almost a sneer at Wash, and then leans in a little closer to York. "Only for the first shot or two, though. After that, stick to the cheap stuff."

York rolls her eyes as she reaches underneath the bar for a glass and a bottle of scotch. "C'mon, get outta here, Dave. I've gotta do a human thing called bartender psychology," she says as she pours Wash a glass, waving the krogan off. He just lets out a low, gravelly laugh and gives York a friendly but hard shove, jostling her enough to spill some of the scotch onto the bar before she can tip the bottle back up.

"You're all right for a human, York. Make sure your friend enjoys his drink." He laughs again, starting for the back room again. York rolls her eyes again, but she huffs out a laugh through her nose as she slides the glass across the bar to Wash.

"Well, now you've met my boss," she says, reaching for a rag to mop up the spilled scotch. "He's all right, y'know, for an alien."

Wash waits until the krogan is well out of earshot -- well, if it even has ears, fuck if he knows -- before he leans towards York, a bemused expression on his face.

Takes him a moment, but when it comes down to it there's only one real question. "...Your alien boss is named Dave?"

York snorts, wiping down the bartop and tossing the rag into a bin. "That's just what I call him. He's got some weird alien name, rhymes with Ajax. In any case, I don't think he really cares," she says, shrugging. "He's kinda gruff, but honestly, he's not a bad guy once you get to know him a little. He can be funny."

Enough smalltalk for now, though. She levels her gaze at Wash as she reaches for some dirty glasses to clean them, raising an eyebrow. "So what's up, huh? Somethin' wrong?"

Wash shakes his head in disbelief and reaches for the scotch instead of answering. He takes an experimental sip, then a longer drink, and keeps his fingers curled around the glass when he sets it back down.

"That offer of bartender psychology still open?"

"'Course it is." York tilts her head to the side a little, looking closely at his face. Something's obviously on his mind. Wash is always a little on the quiet side, but now he's just got kind of a brooding vibe to him. She frowns a little, in concern. "What's wrong, man? Something happen?"

"Mm. You could say that."

Wash sets his elbows on the counter. He doesn't really know where to start now that he's actually here, and it had taken swallowing his pride to admit he needed to talk to anyone.

So he settles for the simplest thing. "I ran into North today."

He could've waited till she was home, of course, but maybe whatever it is, it can't wait. Or maybe he needs to push himself to bring it up. Wash hasn't exactly always been good with feelings. But when he mentions North, she can't help but smile a little. She's not exactly sure how this leads into a problem, but hey, better they all know each other here, right?

"Yeah? So what happened?"

"With him? Nothing, really." Or at least nothing he's going to bring up with her. Not yet, anyway. "No, it was-- something he said. You know Carolina's with him, right?"

York raises an eyebrow, nodding. She's not sure how any of this is news, or...alarming news, at that. But Wash really seems bothered by something, so she just goes with it for now. She's sure whatever it is will come out in conversation. "Yeah, of course. Why, what's up?"

"No, I mean--" Wash bites his lip. Looks from side to side, even though no one's paying attention to them, and it's hardly sensitive information. It's just weird. "With him."

"Uh, yeah. What's the big deal, man?" York's eyebrow creeps a little higher on her forehead. Why Wash is getting all worked up about this, she doesn't really know. Sure, the first time they'd encountered a North and a Carolina together, it'd been a little weird, but honestly, there are way harder pills to swallow. "Is somethin' up that you're not tellin' me, or...?"

Wash gives her a look, but the realization finally flickers across his face. "You already know about them."

But she clearly doesn't get it, and Wash lets out a sigh and leans forward against the counter, eyes settling on his drink. "It's just... it's a lot to wrap my head around. Knowing that they're... okay. That they're happy."

York lets out a breath of a laugh, shaking her head, but she's not really laughing at him. "Why's that so weird, huh? You and me, we're pretty okay nowadays too. So they found some happiness in each other. What's to wrap your head around, man?"

"I mean--" Wash blows out a breath and goes quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers against the bar. It's hard to put into words, but he knows York's not going to understand it unless he does. "I've met a lot of versions of them. Both of them. And they always-- I mean, back home, things don't go so well. They won't. And I'm... always the only one who knows."

"Okay, now you've lost me," York says, her brow knitting in concern. She slings the towel over shoulder, leaning over the bar a little. "What are you talkin' about? I mean, they've been together a while, and they seem pretty okay. So what am I missin' here?"

Wash looks back up at her, pursing his lips. "You remember what I told you about my universe, right? What happens to-- well, everyone. After the Project. There's..."

He shakes his head and takes another sip of his drink. "Let's just say I wasn't right about all of it."

All right, before it'd just been kind of weird, but now it's just downright alarming. York watches him, one eyebrow cocked more apprehensively than skeptically. What kind of new information could he possibly have? "Okay, back up a little, will you? What do you mean, you weren't right?"

Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the shock of seeing North. Whatever it is, it's like the plug Wash had shoved inside him to bottle up all his emotions is coming uncorked, and there's no stopping it now that it's gotten a good tug. "Carolina's not dead," he says. Looks her straight in the eye, squares his jaw. "She's not dead. And she-- fuck, York, I thought she was gone. We all did. But she survived. Back home, she survived."

He snorts, humorless. "And I led her right to him."

"Hey, remember what I said about backing up?" York's eyes are a little wide with alarm. It's been a while since she's seen Wash this upset or worked up about anything. This is all a little too baffling, though. North and Carolina -- they're from way too early in their timelines to know anything about this. "You wanna start by tellin' me how you came into all this information?"

That's enough to get Wash to stop in his tracks, and he reaches for his drink again, downing the rest of his shot in a quick gulp. There's just enough left for it to burn, and he lets it reach the bottom of his throat while he searches for the words, not sure how to even begin describing this. The best way, he supposes, is always the simplest.

"When we went through the teleporter," he starts, looking down into his empty glass. "When we left, I-- I mean, I ended up here, but... I got sent home first."

It takes her this damn long to get a straight answer out of Wash, and she can't say she likes what she hears. The look she gives him is a little incredulous at first, like she can't really believe him, and then she rocks from foot to foot, huffing out an agitated sigh. She hadn't even thought of that as a possibility, not since they left Sacrosanct. There aren't teleporters here, or any of the bullshit associated with them. It hadn't even occurred to her that there might have been something between here and Sacrosanct.

York's gaze settles back on Wash, one eyebrow raised slightly. It's an expectant look. "And you'll didn't feel the need to mention this till now because...?"

"Fuck, York." He pushes his empty glass towards her -- he's definitely going to need a refill if she wants to get the rest of this out of him -- and looks around the rest of the bar. They've been here a month and a half, and he's still not really used to there being noise everywhere he turns, to walking down streets full of organic beings and not lifeless drones.

"Getting here was enough of a shock," he says, still not looking at her. "You think I wanted to think about home, too? About how I'd been wrong about-- everything?"

York gives him a hard look, or at least as hard as she ever gets. If Wash can't even meet her gaze, then there has to be more to it than that. But even if there isn't -- as far as York's concerned, this is just one of those times when Wash has got his head so far up his ass he's not paying attention to much else. "And, what, you didn't think I'd wanna hear about this?" York shoots back. "It's my world too, you know. So what, I only get to hear the updates when you feel like talkin' about it?"

"That's not-- York," Wash protests, but he knows the damage is done. Not much he can do about it now. "I was dealing with it, all right? God, I wasn't even sure if it was real. Wouldn't that've been a great conversation. 'Hey, York, can you see if I bumped my head or if I just went crazy again?' Fill me up." He pushes his glass towards her again. "I'm sorry, okay? I just-- fuck."

"Hey, if that's the conversation we've gotta have, then we have it, okay?" York still doesn't look all that pleased, and it shows in the set of her jaw, but she reaches for the scotch anyway, tipping out another shot's worth into his glass. "C'mon, man, whatever happened to honesty? Y'know, that whole thing where you've got my back and I've got yours?"

She sets the bottle down, sighing, looking less mad than she is annoyed. Disappointed, maybe, but it's never a word she'd use. "I could've helped you deal with it, you know."

Wash doesn't answer for a moment, busying himself instead with his drink. The alcohol burns his throat, but he'd rather take that over thinking, right this second. Compartmentalization is something he's been good at for a long time, thanks to Epsilon, but now that he's actually letting the memories out it's difficult to process them.

"I know," he says finally. "I just-- I didn't want to think it was real. That I was... wrong."

"Wouldn't be the first time," York sighs, but she decides to let it go. She could be mad at Wash about this for a while if she wanted to, but it's probably not worth it. And the guy's obviously pretty torn up about it. York wipes her hands on the front of her apron, cocking her head to the side slightly. "What were you wrong about, huh?"

Wash is quiet for a long moment. When the words do come out, they're quiet, but steady, like he's afraid he won't be able to say it all if he can't get it out.

"We went back for him. Epsilon. They needed his memories. Needed to find the Director. And I-- helped. Even though I'd already let go. Even though it was supposed to be over. And even now-- we're still looking. That's all Carolina wants. Revenge."

York grimaces at the mention of Epsilon, frowning down at the counter, but when Carolina's name comes out of his mouth, she lifts her gaze back to his face, her face almost unreadable. "Carolina, who's not dead," she says, like she can't really believe it. "You know, if I was her, I'd be lookin' for a little revenge myself."

"You don't-- you don't get it," Wash says. He looks back up at her, his tone taking on a distinctly bitter note. "It's not just what he did to her. It's what happened to everyone." He grits his teeth. "Lot of people died in my timeline, remember. And she blames herself. She's not who she used to be. So when I think about the one who's here, the one who doesn't even have any AI--" He shakes his head. "All I can see is who she becomes."

"Hey, hey. That's just who she becomes in your timeline. Every one is different, right?" York drums her fingertips on the counter, almost nervously, sighing through her nose. "You just said it yourself. She doesn't have any AI. And here, she never will. I remember my Carolina too, Wash. I think she always had her baggage, but those AI changed her."

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