(no subject)

[overmood.livejournal.com]

[ Church didn't really see it as running away.

Maybe it was, technically, but he'd done it for his own good as much as he'd done it for Epsilon's. Omega had practically bared his teeth, spoke over Church until all he could make out was, he's so close he's so close I'll rip his spine out I'll fucking kill every person in this room until the blood sprays and their lungs collapse and their bones break -

And Gamma had been talking, too, weaving his way around him until Church couldn't focus on anything except the need to just get the fuck away, because all he was saying was, "He can do it, you know. He's stronger than you, and he can do it, and there'll be nothing you can do about it, and that'll be that."

Gamma sounded a lot more human than he remembered him being, talked to him like he were a person, and it drove Church a little insane, a little fucking nuts, but they were quiet now. He'd stapled them back in place, locked them up again, didn't know how the fuck he did it at all, but it was done, and he can breathe just fine.

And Wash had told him that he'd need to learn to deal with it, but dealing with it was fucking hard when he had a psychopath living inside his brain.

( God, what the hell, Leonard, who's in control here, really? )

He'd found a way on top of the cliff that hid the base directly beneath, and from there, he can spot where Caboose and the others are. None of them are currently within a viewable range, either because they were all inside or outside of his line of sight, but it's comforting all the same. Comforting because it's familiar, because it's something Church knows and recognizes, those red fucking whores, those annoying little bitches, and then.

Caboose.

And as much as he motherfucking hated all of those bitches, it's nice to just sit there and think about them.

So that's what he does, elbows resting on his knees, silent. ]

Comments

[exproject.livejournal.com]

[ It's much later when Wash finally tracks him down, maybe a little aggravated at Church being out in the open but not about to bring it up, not now, and his arms full of fully re-assembled sniper rifle. Epsilon had been ordered home, sulking and grumbling, to make sure Caboose didn't freak out, and Wash isn't sure if he's meant to feel relieved or worried or both. Part of him wants to keep Epsilon with him, just to make sure, just to know that he was safe at all times.

Part of him would much rather have been out here with Church, but then. Church needs the space from him, too.

He's quiet as he approaches, not silent, deliberately taking a few heavy steps to let Church know he was there. ]

Thought you might want this back.

[overmood.livejournal.com]

Yeah, dude, thanks. Just set it down.

[exproject.livejournal.com]

[ He sets it down. And. Ignores the little voice of social grace that tells him to leave Church be, because they are living in a damp cave and the air out here doesn't smell like prison.

He waits almost a full minute, lifting his face to the breeze (how long has it been since he's had this chance, without armor and helmet). He can smell the lake and promises himself very quietly, before they leave here, that he'll take advantage of it at least once. ]

...he's gone. I asked him to go back to Caboose and stay there.

[overmood.livejournal.com]

You sent him to Caboose?

[exproject.livejournal.com]

[ blink ]

Yes? He's been with Caboose this entire time already.

[overmood.livejournal.com]

Yeah, but --



Nevermind.

[exproject.livejournal.com]

[ just watching him ]

I didn't think you'd want him staying here the whole time.

[overmood.livejournal.com]

Well, I don't want Caboose fucking him up, either.

[exproject.livejournal.com]

[ Yeah Wash might have. Forgotten all about that. As evidenced by the sudden cloud of horror that passes over his face, the fingers that twitch automatically for his radio before he visibly controls himself. ]

...he's. He'll be alright.

[overmood.livejournal.com]

Yeah, you know, you're probably right, man, it'll be fine.

[exproject.livejournal.com]

[ When it comes to Epsilon it doesn't take a lot to freak Wash out. But he's got the radio and a private channel between them rigged up and Epsilon isn't so entirely helpless that he'd fall prey to one of Caboose's hideous teamkill habits. Presumably. Probably. He's still a combat rated AI.

Had been.

Before storage.

Before the crazy.

When he'd only been active when Wash was with him.

...if Caboose hurts him Wash will go down there and disembowel him with a rusty spoon and feed his entrails to the fish in the lake.

.........oh he'd said that last thing out loud, hadn't he. ]

[overmood.livejournal.com]

We're gonna leave sometime, right? I need to talk to -- -- Sarge before we do.

[exproject.livejournal.com]

[ Locked up, gagged, and chained. Which. Is totally normal for someone of his background. That didn't mean he was crazy at all. Issues were not the same thing as crazy, so long as he can recognize and keep them in check.

He takes a second to mentally slam the door on that whole disemboweling Caboose thing before following after Church. He hadn't really meant to chase him out of his spot but doesn't comment on it, figuring an apology would be scoffed at. ]

We won't have to leave until everyone is ready.

[ Yeah god forbid. He looks at Church askance behind his back. ]

...if you want that pack of morons them along, I'll need to find some earplugs. And anti-migraine tabs.

[ His first instinct is to plant his feet and say absolutely not, really, except that this is technically Church's chosen mission and maybe Wash ought to pay him back for that whole suicidal EMP thing by actually letting him lead it. A little bit. If he wants the Reds along, Wash will do his level best not to object on principle.

Or maybe that's not even why. ]

[misraded.livejournal.com]

[exproject.livejournal.com]

[ Wash certainly isn't expecting him to still be up and about when he does meander back in, minus all his beer (except one, just one) and stripped down to pants and boots. His hair is still dripping wet, even.

He stops when he catches sight of Church at the table, though. ]

--you're still up?

[misraded.livejournal.com]

-- Uhh? What?



Yeah.

Not tired.

[exproject.livejournal.com]

...

[ ... ]

O-kay then.

[ Whatever maybe Wash had startled him. He goes to dump his gear, sorting things methodically even if he has no intention of putting them all away tonight. Wet shirt is wrung out and hung off the back of a chair to dry and he hunts up a towel, soaking up the excess water from his hair.

Also, Church, without that handy little utility belt his pants are riding low on his hips, probably lower than is decent in company, but he didn't think you'd still be up. ]

[misraded.livejournal.com]

[exproject.livejournal.com]

[ Okay yeah that is weird that Church is still here and messing with that gun, because he seems to do that when he can't find anything else to do with his hands, but Wash is juuuuuust going to politely not mention it and maybe go about putting this crap away like a neat freak instead of leaving it til morning. That had been sort of a good note (god and isn't that pathetic) out there and maybe he shouldn't ruin it with more conversation, just get this done and leave quietly.

Maybe.

...

He counts slowly to twenty before speaking up, his back turned to Church. ]

Yes, Church?

[misraded.livejournal.com]

-- S'up, man?

[exproject.livejournal.com]

[ Seriously what is his malfunction. He looks over at the clatter. ]

Did I interrupt something when I came in?

[misraded.livejournal.com]

No, dude, just cleaning. I do it all the time. I clean things. It's called cleaning. It's where you clean. Things.

[exproject.livejournal.com]

...

Right. Well.

I guess I'll leave you to it. Goodnight, Church.

[ Yeah just slip past him here and head on to an actual room because he's not sleeping on the goddamn floor again like last night when they'd both been too wiped to move more than a few feet from the table. ]

[misraded.livejournal.com]

Wait.

[exproject.livejournal.com]

...?