bothbarrels | Duplicity IC Contact

[ She flinches—hearing him say South when not in front of other people still has some raw associations. She bites her tongue hard enough she tastes iron. Fuck. Fuuuuuck. She's backed into a goddamned corner. She laughs without humour, covers her face with her other hand. ]

The one fucking time I try cover for someone else...

[ He doesn't say anything at that point. She knows she has to say something or he won't drop it. So he waits. Waits for the news that he needs to hear. ]

[ Well, this is either going to nuke the surprisingly amicable friendship (?) developing with Wash, or— something else, she doesn't know. ]

...you've got to fucking promise me you're not going to be stupid.

What do you mean by that?

[ He says it mildly, not sounding offended. ]

Dude you suddenly developed the ability to want to kill out of revenge when I told you about a psyche experiment, you're trying to get me to tell you who fucking kills me.

[ Plus the him on the rig was so fucking stupid about this but she doesn't want to get right into that when he's at least acknowledged the whole 'lying to myself and others' thing here. ]

[ He tilts his head a little. ]

Why are you trying to protect them?

[ He says it in the same mild tone, as if this is a brain teaser they're contemplating and not her death. ]

Why are any of you giving me the chance to prove I'm not a backstabbing bitch anymore? Same principle.

[ Totally true. She actually kinda likes the Washes she's known, now. That it's at least 50% because she can't blame him for doing it, that she probably even deserved that bullet, is something for her to know. ]

[ He ponders it for a minute—but probably not from the angle she would have preferred. Instead he considers the point that this person is probably here, based on her asking him not to be stupid, and that she's probably forgiven the person, based on her refusal to give up the information. And he ponders her, making the claim that she's no longer a backstabber.

And at the end of his pondering, he reaches in his pocket. ]

If I called Carolina, would she know the answer?

God-fucking-dammit, Drew—yes, yes she fucking would, but don't— don't do that.

[ She slaps at his arm to try and get him to take it out of his pocket. ]

Don't drag anyone else into this right now. Please.

[ He looks over at her, not removing his hand from his pocket, but not moving to take his device out, either. ]

What's going on? You feel like because you've forgiven this person you owe them something? Or you're somehow afraid of what I'd do to them? I want to know, Anja. Tell me.

I don't... it's not...

[ She owes Wash something, not because she's forgiven him—she's not sure if she has, really, she's just not holding it against him anymore, there's definitely a difference—but because she shot him in the back long before he shot her. She has to make shit up to him, too. ]

It's Wash, okay?! It's fucking Wash! Who the fuck else? I shot him in the fucking back, remember? When we crossed paths again, apparently he took the opportunity to get revenge! Hell, it's not even like I can blame him for it!

[ He removes his hand from his pocket, staring at her. That's the only look he can give, a startled disbelief. He knew somehow, really, but he also didn't, because how did Wash turn into that?

And then he nods, grunting an acceptance of the fact, and bends at the waist, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands together, and his chin on his thumbs. ]

[ South slumps over, face in her hands and groaning. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. She's gonna have to warn Wash, she can't let him go into whatever the fuck this leads to blind. Her and her big fucking mouth. ]

I don't... I don't know exactly how I ended up there that day, but I know I was being that same, horrible fucking bitch. I get why he did it.

[ She deserved it. She fucking deserved it. She deserves to go back and face that damn bullet, not dodge it on a timeline technicality. ]

[ He tilts his head to regard her. ]

Are you kidding me, Anja? He killed you.

Because I tried to kill him. And basically did kill you. Think it was half about revenge, half about not trusting my ass not to shoot him again the second he looked away.

[ Probably a good call. She'd put money on that her having her finger on the trigger just waiting for the right moment, before she got the bullet to the face first. ]

[ North sits with this, a dark look on his face, and returns to face center forward. ]

Is Wash from after that happened?

...yeah. Years after, far as I know. Not sure exactly when.

[ She's 90% sure he's not from the same time as the Wash from the rig, but it's not like she has an actual timeline. She's just guessing, based on what he's said and hasn't said, where he seems to be like, in himself. His attitude towards her, at the start. But she knows he's from after. ]

We've already talked about it. First thing we talked about, really.

Talked?

Yeah. Me and Wash talked about this shit. Me shooting him, him shooting me. Cleared the air and all that. Figured out where to go without pissing each other off. I mean, I've got a headstart, was friendly with the Wash from the rig by the time we were leaving so...

[ A shrug. ]

[ He remains in place, considering this—South being friendly with Wash, them clearing the air, and whatnot. Eventually he sits up, dropping his hands to his lap. ]

I don't know.

Don't know what, Drew?

[ It's entirely possible she ends up regretting asking for elaboration, she regrets half this conversation right now thanks to her big mouth, but like— what else can she say? ]

[ He wheels in her direction, setting his elbow back against the backrest of the couch in order to turn. His other hand goes to the air to gesticulate, cutting the air with his hand to emphasize his words. ]

I don't know. I don't understand. You have to explain to me how any of that happened, Anja. How did you two come to be friendly? How did you come to decide he was right?

I have never heard you say a damn word that sounded like that.

[ Teeth gritting hard against each other, her jaw tenses. She wants to get up and pace but that won't help, so she just ends up antsily bouncing her leg. ]

It's— It's complicated, okay? It took months and all sorts of weird shit for me and the Wash on the rig to get friendly. But he was one of the ones pushing me to get over myself and get better. 'cause he had, I guess.

[ She doesn't touch the second question on purpose. She barely knows how to unpack the first. ]

So this makes him 100% correct in everything, huh.

That's not what I—

[ She muffles a wordless frustrated noise in her hands, folding over almost in half with the backs of her hands against her knees. ]

I just get it, okay? I get why he did it. I fucking saw this memory of that Wash's and for all I know, it's not the same for this one, but I fucked him up bad, so being that pissed at me— I get it.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: vague suicidal ideation

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject