bothbarrels | Duplicity IC Contact

[ 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.

You get it. Ah, you get it. Okay.

[ His tone has become icily sarcastic. He sits back against the couch, facing forward again, and tilts his head to gaze above the wall. ]

But, okay, sure. That's fine. It's all fine.

For fuck's sake, don't get like that at me!

[ 'You're giving me the chance to prove I'm better, why don't I get to do the same to others?' is on the tip of her tongue, but she can't say it. If she does, he might realise he should just cut her off, after all. ]

No, it's not fucking fine, none of what happened was fine, but that's not— it's not— [ She breaks off into another wordless noise. ]

[ There's a moment's pause. North suddenly stands. ]

Nah, it's not. It's not fine.

[ He walks to the wall and, tilting his head down, plants his forehead against it, one hand flat on the wall. ]

[ A sense of dread nestles itself in the pit of her stomach. She's not sure if it's on her own behalf, or Wash's. Maybe both.

She opens her mouth, realises she doesn't even know what to say, and just gets out a— ]

Drew...?

[ —before she falls silent again. ]

[ He pushes back and turns around. ]

Give me all your guns.

I— what?

[ That was not at all what she was expecting him to say. She blinks, opens her mouth, frowns, shuts it. ]

Why? What the fuck do you want my guns for? I told you no being stupid about this!

[ He walks closer as he speaks, pointing a finger at the floor with emphasis. As he continues he continually gets louder, pointing higher with each emphasized word. ]

I want them where you can't get to them until I get an explanation for why you said Wash was in the right for SHOOTING YOU.

[ By the final two words of his sentence North is leaning down to face South more closely, pointing at her with two jabs. ]

Edited 2021-11-11 00:59 (UTC)

[ He raises his voice like this so rarely that she's not prepared for it, that she flinches when he gets out those last two words right in her face. Staring back at him with wide eyes, she's sat so still it's like she's forgotten to breathe.

It takes her a long, long second to digest the words themselves, not just the tone. An even longer second, to come anywhere near understanding them. He wants the guns... away from her... until...? ]

...the fuck do you think I'm gonna do?

[ Her voice is smaller than usual, but it's still not an answer. ]

Don't act like you're stupid.

[ He stands, turns, and walks to the wall again. This time after planting his forehead he starts beating his fist on the wall. ]

Goddamn, fuck, shit.

[ The thing is it honestly doesn't click, not at first. Not even as she asks the question, the implication right there on the tip of her tongue. She doesn't understand how they got here, can't see all the pieces that she laid out without even realising she was doing it. ]

I'm not, I— fuck, Drew, I told you why!

[ He's still beating on the wall as he talks. ]

There's a goddamn difference between understanding him and thinking he's right.

[ He closes his eyes and shakes his head, rocking it back and forth on the wall. ]

I have never, ever in my life seen you like this and I'm so goddamn worried about you realizing what you're thinking in the middle of the goddamned night. God.

[ Now instead of beating his hand on the wall, he starts bopping it with his forehead. After doing this five times, he stops, holding there with his fist on the wall and his forehead pressed against it. ]

Fuck.

[ He moves from the wall just enough to have room to cover his face with his hands. ]

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cw: vague suicidal ideation

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