Sometimes, Wash talked like a robot and it frustrated the hell out of him. Epsilon getting taken, their deaths. Devastating. But Tucker was fairly sure Wash was talking on a strategical level (which was still true) rather than a personal one.
Sure, technically their deaths would crush morale. Sure, Hargrove being able to run that suit would change everything. Sure. Sure. But--
He couldn't bury Caboose. Couldn't. Just like he couldn't bury Wash. But that was the nature of war, wasn't it? Didn't matter; those were real feelings. That was his fucking family, and he realized on this damn planet on how fucking fragile it all was. Losing Wash at the beginning--
Armor wasn't comfortable to lean against, all sharp edges that dug into his back, but leaned into he did. It felt good to be close to it, even if he didn't want to be in it. At least Wash had flushed. At least he was still a person under all the layers of death and pain. Chorus had been the first real tragedy Tucker had ever known, first real battle, wetted his tongue on how it felt to lose something, to be responsible, to taste what it was supposed to be like.
So he washed that taste down with more alcohol.
"But just because he did doesn't make this feel any less shitty." He sighed around the lip of the bottle. "You had friends who died. What'd you do to, like, I dunno, honor them?"
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branchandroot
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Date: 2016-06-14 02:46 pm (UTC)Sometimes, Wash talked like a robot and it frustrated the hell out of him. Epsilon getting taken, their deaths. Devastating. But Tucker was fairly sure Wash was talking on a strategical level (which was still true) rather than a personal one.
Sure, technically their deaths would crush morale. Sure, Hargrove being able to run that suit would change everything. Sure. Sure. But--
He couldn't bury Caboose. Couldn't. Just like he couldn't bury Wash. But that was the nature of war, wasn't it? Didn't matter; those were real feelings. That was his fucking family, and he realized on this damn planet on how fucking fragile it all was. Losing Wash at the beginning--
Armor wasn't comfortable to lean against, all sharp edges that dug into his back, but leaned into he did. It felt good to be close to it, even if he didn't want to be in it. At least Wash had flushed. At least he was still a person under all the layers of death and pain. Chorus had been the first real tragedy Tucker had ever known, first real battle, wetted his tongue on how it felt to lose something, to be responsible, to taste what it was supposed to be like.
So he washed that taste down with more alcohol.
"But just because he did doesn't make this feel any less shitty." He sighed around the lip of the bottle. "You had friends who died. What'd you do to, like, I dunno, honor them?"