revenance_rpg | Back in Black...Sort Of

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Back in Black...Sort Of

Who: Wash and Chell
What: Wash is back! And in pretty bad shape!
Where: Traverse Town, First District
When: Evening, about four days after he initially disappeared.
Warnings: Language...?

Wash opened his eyes slowly. That in and of itself was something of a surprise, given that the last thing he remembered was getting clocked - at least, he thought that was what happened. He'd known he was sacrificing something, having Freckles collapse that tunnel; he just didn't know if it was his freedom or his life.

Given that he was back in neon Switzerland, it didn't look like he was going to find out anytime soon.

He sat up slowly, doubling over as pain jackhammered through his skull. Evidently dreaming still didn't ease the pains of being concussed. Or shot. Great. He wasn't going to be going anywhere like this - not if Nightmares still spawned around every corner like he remembered. He had no communicator, no backup, and a rifle with a half-spent clip. There was nobody around - not that he could see. No, he wasn't going anywhere for a while.

He let out a breath slowly, closing his eyes. There was too much that he couldn't think about - how long he'd been gone, whether anyone he knew was still here, what had changed in his absence, why he was back. Right now, he needed to wait out the pain in his head - at least some of it - and get to shelter. Survival first, then ridiculous philosophical questions.

Right.

Everything that had gone down today had been easier said than done. No reason for this to be any different.

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While Wash tried to focus on getting better, he might have tried to ignore that high-pitched noise as ringing in his ears, annoying but not too much to concern himself over in the grand scheme of problems he had right now.

Usually Chell sent her bat scouting for Nightmares to fight, while she rushed over rooftops to try and drop down for an ambush. Usually it made for a slightly less noisy warning, though. A glance down over the roof's edge certainly explained the difference.

Chell considered the armor--familiar in style, if not color, which would maybe cheer up some of the moping dreamers around town. Why they were out here looking a wreck instead of bothering the Moogles was a larger concern, though. For a long few seconds, Chell just watched the resting soldier, before deciding.

A quiet quick descent down the brick and scaffolding, and Chell stood but a few feet away, her eyes more on the gun than the soldier, before she snapped her fingers. They were alive, but were they awake?

Admittedly, that high-pitched noise was pretty familiar, but he was entirely too preoccupied to be able to place it. Maybe once his head stopped throbbing.

Wash would've seen the incoming blip on his motion trackers if he'd kept his eyes open; right now, that wasn't the case. It wasn't the smartest strategy, but Nightmares weren't spawning just yet and he knew he'd hear them if they were.

Such as it was, that strategy fell apart when he heard the sound of something landing on the pavement, followed by fingers snapping. His eyes snapped open and his head jerked up, looking for the source of the noise a split second before the pain, temporarily arrested by his sudden motion, came roaring back. He tensed, swallowing back any noise he would have made. He didn't think he looked too much worse than usual on the outside; no reason to give the game away if he could help it. At least he recognized the woman in front of him, even if it was from a good long while ago. He'd never seen her speak, though.

He let a breath out slowly, relaxing just enough to talk. Might as well try. "Hey."

One eyebrow raised a little at the reaction, but both arched high as he spoke. She'd never interacted with him personally, but Chell never forgot a voice. Hopefully he'd popped out for something more important than a shopping spree, or a lot of people were throwing a fuss for no good reason.

She reached into her bag and fished out a potion, holding it out to him. With the fancy new duds on, she couldn't see how bad it was, but she'd spent too much time gathering her senses in dark corners not to recognize pain.

Her bat settled down near him with a few worried snuffles. Is the person okay? What's he doing here? Don't worry person, they're here to help and will not stab you.

It took Wash a moment to parse out why she might have been looking at him like that. Oh yeah - he'd picked up new armor from what was left of the ship. Most of the people here had only known him in blue, not gray. If it was a good enough disguise to fool the UNSC...

Well, that wasn't always a very high bar, and it definitely wasn't important right now. What was important was the woman, and more to the point, the potion she was offering him. He thumbed the latches on his helmet, gingerly removing it and setting it on the ground beside him. He probably looked like a mess, and he was beyond caring about it. He took the proffered potion, worked the cork out, and knocked it back, chugging the entire thing. Immediately, the pain in his head started to fade from jackhammer intensity to a dull throb. That, he could handle.

He set the bottle down, exhaling in one long, slow sigh. "Thanks. I needed that." Maybe he could start thinking a little more clearly now.

The bat - probably hers - landed next to him, and he reached over to scratch behind its ears. It was a nearly automatic reaction now, after Fang-

Fang. Melody. Puddles. Lady. Where were his Spirits? Were they even still intact? Wash added those questions to the pile that he'd get answered later, after he'd figured out shelter and - if he was lucky - found someone he knew. Right now, he still needed a few moments to put himself back together, even after the potion.

"How long have I been gone?" It wasn't the single most pertinent question he had, but it was a start, and it would tell him whether she was able, or willing, to answer.

Her bat was happy to receive the scratches, a tiny little assurance that the person was okay. Scratches definitely meant things were all right.

Meanwhile, Chell crouched down, watching him while balancing on the balls of her feet, taking in the wreck that was Agent Washington.

She'd never seen him without the helmet on, but she could see his exhaustion and weariness. He'd been busy, wherever he'd gone, and it had left his mark, in more than one way. There was an slight glaze in his eyes, a looseness in his movements, even as he held himself together, that she didn't quite like the look of. Potions would be nice, a healer would be better.

Hopefully, at least he could see straight. She held up four fingers. Time was a hard thing to pinpoint around here, what with the stubborn and unchanging light, but she estimated as best she could.

If Wash looked like he'd been through a war zone, that was because, well, he had. Literally. Still, he could deal with it. He didn't usually have an alternative.

He furrowed his brows slightly at her gesture. Well, that was marginally helpful. "Okay, four what? Hours? Days? Years?"

He didn't know that much, huh? Time did move oddly around here, after all. Nudging her bat, she pointed up, and it gave a perky trill. With one last nuzzle into Wash's hand, it took to the air. Don't worry gray person, it's going to look for help!

That taken care of, Chell dug through her pockets as she switched to two fingers--days, the second option.

He watched the bat take to the air, glancing back at the woman in time to see her gesture change. Two, and the second option he'd given had been...

"Four days," he murmured, scrubbing his face with a hand. "Jesus." It had been a year for him, a year awake, and here it had been almost no time at all. Then again, the same thing had happened with Ziva.

He felt that familiar pang of loss and swallowed it back. No. Not dealing with that. He had more pressing matters right now. He'd find shelter, he'd give himself some time to recover, and then maybe- maybe he could look for her if she was still here.

The surge of hope that followed that thought was even harder to hold back. Priorities, goddammit. "Did I miss anything big?"

While he took in the time difference, Chell fished out her communicator, and snapped a quick video--just a few seconds, no more than needed, she figured.

She shrugged at his question as she watched the video hit the network. A flood of Nightmares, nothing too hugely abnormal in the grand scheme of things. He'd missed a couple frantic search parties, too, but that felt a tad redundant to bring up.

It took a moment for Wash to wonder why he wasn't hearing an answer, and another to remember that she didn't talk. Oh. Right. He looked up in time to catch the shrug. "That's a relief, I guess."

As big a relief as things can be, really, she thought. No steps in the wrong direction, but none in the right either. He'd be coming back to annoying dreams and cryptic messages, irritating monsters, and arbitrary rules.

Chell looked to him again. It was probably better than wherever he'd been. She gave him a faint, wry grin. He could relax a little; friends were on their way.

A holding pattern in a dream world with threats he generally knew how to handle was a hell of a lot better than a losing battle in a war zone that he hadn't signed up to fight in in the first place, yes. (And hell, the only thing the military was missing off that list was irritating monsters, and that was only because the Covenant had long since passed irritating and gone straight into terrifying...but at least that was over now.)

He blinked, and the side of his mouth twitched up a bit in response to that grin. Wash was still too rattled to smile, at least for now. Still... "Thanks," he told her. "I owe you one."

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Back in Black...Sort Of

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