Wash always looked tired and stressed out but tonight he looked downright haggard. The stress of the campaign and almost a full twenty-four hours on his feet would have been enough to wipe anyone's reserves.
This newest emotional hurdle threatened to squash whatever remained of his morale. Epsilon had been his AI and he'd very nearly killed himself because of the stresses the AI had put on his psyche. For the majority of the time he'd spent in that psyche ward, Wash had been incapable of differentiating between what were his memories and what had come for Epsilon.
For months, his dreams had been haunted by the face of a blonde woman who's name he could not recall and he'd screamed out the name Allison until his voice had cracked and eventually lost because he'd been screaming the name for so long.
His experience with Epsilon had scarred Wash for life when it came to AI and now he couldn't even consider the idea of accepting an onboard AI passenger in his neural network without feeling panic bubble at the back of his throat. Yet despite the horrific experience, he came to care for Epsilon as his own unique individual rather than the ghostly echo of the Director's memories.
And he mourned for that loss just like Tucker did.
"One Freckles is enough for one lifetime." Wash agreed quietly while he watched Tucker dig around under his bed only to draw out the locker containing two bottles of whiskey. His eyebrows arched upwards but for the first time in his life, Washington didn't feel the need to lecture Tucker over the obvious contraband.
Or the potential drinking problem he'd apparently picked up somewhere. He just mutely accepted the second bottle and twisted off the cap so he could take a long pull from the bottle. It burned a path down his throat but Wash kept that discomfort to himself.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2016-06-03 06:46 pm (UTC)This newest emotional hurdle threatened to squash whatever remained of his morale. Epsilon had been his AI and he'd very nearly killed himself because of the stresses the AI had put on his psyche. For the majority of the time he'd spent in that psyche ward, Wash had been incapable of differentiating between what were his memories and what had come for Epsilon.
For months, his dreams had been haunted by the face of a blonde woman who's name he could not recall and he'd screamed out the name Allison until his voice had cracked and eventually lost because he'd been screaming the name for so long.
His experience with Epsilon had scarred Wash for life when it came to AI and now he couldn't even consider the idea of accepting an onboard AI passenger in his neural network without feeling panic bubble at the back of his throat. Yet despite the horrific experience, he came to care for Epsilon as his own unique individual rather than the ghostly echo of the Director's memories.
And he mourned for that loss just like Tucker did.
"One Freckles is enough for one lifetime." Wash agreed quietly while he watched Tucker dig around under his bed only to draw out the locker containing two bottles of whiskey. His eyebrows arched upwards but for the first time in his life, Washington didn't feel the need to lecture Tucker over the obvious contraband.
Or the potential drinking problem he'd apparently picked up somewhere. He just mutely accepted the second bottle and twisted off the cap so he could take a long pull from the bottle. It burned a path down his throat but Wash kept that discomfort to himself.