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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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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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