[ She's not, though. Okay. Safe, maybe, but not okay. Something tells Wash she doesn't want him to ask after that, so. He just nods. ]
Thank you. I hope it holds. [ He sighs, hearing thuds coming from the stairwell. Probably Carolina punching a wall, and he should check on her, but-- ] Can I try to fix your jacket for you?
[ It's the absolute least he can do, at this point. ]
[At the first dull thud, followed by a second one, Ginia leans slightly to look past David, already guessing what Carolina is doing. Can't blame her, honestly. It's a truce, but not one necessarily given willingly or even on the best terms.
But it's a truce. It's time. Maybe that's all that matters now.
She looks at the thin slice on her jacket then to David. Earlier, before all of this, she would have considered it. Now it's a debt she'll have to repay and she'd rather not have any open favors anymore.]
It'll fix itself on its own in time.
[True enough. Self-repairing nanotech sure is something.]
We'll be fine. I think we might have hoped for too much, that's all.
[ He shrugs. Carolina will cool down, he'll continue to bottle it up. They'll manage, with the assurance they've gotten that Sharkface won't be coming after them for vengeance, at least right now. And if he does, well. That's on them to deal with, they've all caused Angela more than enough trouble. He wouldn't blame her for never wanting to see them again, thinks it's pretty amazing how civil she's being with him right now. ]
...I meant it, you know. I didn't mean to mislead anybody. Not you, either. We really appreciate your trying to help.
[ A little nod, and he's ducking his head and turning away to go check on his best friend, who may well be breaking her hand without him to stop her. ]
[Her brow crooks a little because honestly, what were they hoping for beyond walking away alive? Forgiveness wasn't going to be an option, not at this point. The best Ginia wanted was Ephemera hearing them out and an agreement to not kill each other. By all means, they got that.
And the cost?
It doesn't matter.
Ginia mulls on his words as she walks with him. At this point, it's best to be civilized, walk out of the building together before going their separate ways. Keep calm, don't make a scene.]
To us you did. Even wanting to help was doing something.
[ He opens the door to the stairs and holds it for Angela, starts down. The dull thuds are louder in here and two landings down they find Carolina -- Wash snags her wrist, careful to catch her over her sleeve, and tilts his head towards Angela. 'She's leaving, say something,' his expression somehow manages to communicate, as he peers at her hand to see if she's hurt herself. ]
[ carolina's giving herself credit for finding a wall she can't break. it's sturdy, stone or something like that. the paint is already scuffed. the few streaks of blood she's left in the wake of her hits barely show.
the knuckles are bloodied and already puffy on both hands - she's never had a preference for swinging one over the other - but she gives it up by the time wash's feet hit her landing. they hurt and they will hurt, but it's nothing, really. just a sensation that feels a little better than just leaving for dragging her out of her head. her arm trembles just a touch with his grip on her wrist, but it has more to do with the tension she's barely keeping contained within herself than her actual hands.
she opens her mouth to scream about how goddamn unfair this all is, to still be haunted by the worst things that came out of project freelancer, but they're not alone. she snaps her lips shut and inhales hard through her nose, composes herself enough to look at ginia. ]
I'm sure it doesn't look it - [ there's a tremble in her voice, too, something between rage and tears. ] - But I'm grateful for your help, Angela.
[Ginia watches David and Carolina, the closeness, the looks that say nothing to a stranger and so much to those familiar. It's funny. She used to be the one that would stop the others from bashing their hands against walls. Beth. Erika. Fiona. Always the one to calm down others, stay with them in the hard moments. Even more recently - though the time feels like eons now - she would sit with Ephemera. Hold his hands, or lean against him, or stand with their foreheads pressed.
She felt like she had a place to belong. Someone who had her back, a friend she could count on.
Now she's alone again and though she wants to blame everyone else, maybe it's ultimately no fault but her own. For daring to want more. For thinking she could connect with people. That she could be a human too.
Her eyes glance away, not wanting to look at the two of them, even if she can hear the difficulty in Carolina's voice. They all have the things they're dealing with. Their difficulties. It's not only her.]
I didn't do anything.
[She repeats what she signed to David. It's true. Nothing she said to Ephemera mattered, nothing she ever did counted for anything. Her chest feels tight and she wants to cry, but there's no space for any weakness when all she has is herself to count on.]
[ Wash curses softly to himself as he examines Carolina's hands -- he doesn't have any tissue or anything, though there's plenty of first aid supplies in their apartment. They'll take care of it when they get back, that's all. She seems done hitting the wall and he doesn't want to engage the bond in front of Angela so he lets go reluctantly, glancing back up at the other woman. ]
[David answers and Carolina shakes her head. Okay. She would leave it at that, but David asks another question. Everything feels like spun glass right now, so delicate and fragile but still so sharp and deadly.]
I'm working an early shift.
[It's not even a lie. She has plenty of time to make up, what with disappearing for long periods at a time. It feels like she's on thin ice with her landscaping job and maybe it's one of the last few nice things in her life.]
[ He nods a polite goodbye and tilts his head towards the next flight down; he and Carolina start moving towards the exit. One thing at a time, he tells himself. Get home. Take care of Carolina's hands. Make sure she's okay. ]
[ by the time they reach the bottom of the stairs, carolina is a few steps ahead of wash, hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie. outside, ginia gets a nod before carolina's quick to turn, walking whatever way the other woman isn't and letting wash catch up in the next half block.
she doesn't talk on the way back to their apartment, refuses to seek out his touch the way they've gotten used to doing for one another in the last few days. it had been a surprisingly easy thing to get used to, the empathy. wash had been a tactile source of comfort before but it's different here, usually better.
but it's not what she wants right now and even once they're safely back in their apartment, she's not seeking it out, just heading to the bathroom to start washing her hands in the coldest water their tap will provide. ]
[ Wash catches up to Carolina but lets her have her space on the way home, watches her back as she heads to the bathroom and disappears. He hears the water turn on, and lets his shoulders drop tiredly... then grabs the first aid kit he put together for the place. It's huge by most people's standards, but all he needs for this is some peroxide and soft gauze, and the instant ice packs. She'd barely scratched herself, but her hands will be bruised and aching tomorrow.
He heads into the bathroom with the items and doesn't bother asking permission, just turns off the water and sets everything down, holding out a hand for hers. ]
Let me.
[ It's only barely still a request, and there's one hidden underneath. 'Don't hide from me.' ]
[ she knows when wash toes the line between suggestion and command with her, when he decides he needs to push back, usually for her own good. but she knows how badly she wants to isolate herself right now, which means that surely wash knows it, too.
and isn't going to let her.
her hands drop to the edge of the counter when he turns the water off, but her fingers don't grip as tight as they could and now that it's had time to blossom, the bruising and faint swelling along the back of her hands and over her knuckles is apparent.
carolina knows she's only prolonging the inevitable, but she doesn't take his hand right away, just lifting her head so she can look at his reflection in the vanity mirror. it feels easier to manage somehow. baby steps so she can make herself connect with him again. ]
At least we know he's not coming for us.
[ she doesn't sound so angry now, just exhausted, on the verge of tears. she'd probably feel better about things if she still sounded angry. ]
[ Except Wash is pretty sure the only reason he was able to be talked down, convinced to see reason, was that he murdered Angela. And that's on them. But Wash isn't going to dump that on Carolina right now, even if she'll feel his guilt when she takes his hand. It could be from any number of things. Whatever. He keeps his hand out, waiting patiently, the frustration and disappointment that he'd locked down when in front of Sharkface creeping back now that it's just them. ]
We hoped for too much too fast.
[ He says it again to Carolina, trying to sound reasonable rather than bitter. Objectively, things like forgiveness take time, sometimes it never happens. This might be one of those things. He just hates that it feels like the blame, the punishment, is never going to end. ]
[ she's agreeing for his sake, because it sounds reasonable and rational and she needs to pretend she's a reasonable person until she actually can be again.
we hoped for too much. what had carolina even hoped for, really? a civil conversation? some conclusion that he could hate their guts and still be capable of ignoring it? it hadn't felt like too much. but it's still unsatisfying and just how easily she can see the disappointment in wash's face doesn't help.
like not being able to fix this has let him down again. like it's dumb luck and people who are practically strangers to thank for him not being hurt again at the hands of someone fucked over by project freelancer. like every time she thinks she has all of the director's bullshit patched up and dealt with, it comes back.
he's still breaking her family from beyond the grave. she's still paying for his crimes.
(and god, connie really did have the whole thing figured out, if only anyone could have talked to her.)
she lets her eyes close, takes a deep breath. ]
I'm sorry he found out who you were.
[ she's sorry for a lot of things, but she can voice that safely, at least. ]
Don't be. I was an idiot to think that I could even manage to make a friend in a month and a half, let alone that anything I did would make a difference.
[ His jaw works, gaze on Carolina's hands where they're gripping the sink. There's blood seeping from her knuckles to stain the porcelain, and Wash softens his voice a little. ]
[ other things might, when they're in a better place, when they banter, but not that. friendships can form fast and wash is nothing if not endearing.
which means she can't keep him at arm's length indefinitely, carolina taking a few more seconds to decide what's safe to think about - anger is easy, so's frustration, but she can keep the guilt away the way she used to keep her anxiety away from eta and iota. it's not there, not for them.
anything but temple, she tells herself, and finally lifts a hand to put it in his- cold to the touch and still dripping with water, but at least she's touching him.
except anything but temple drags her mind to a different memory and for the moment, it's too vivid to ignore.
a dark room, connie and a soldier opposite her, her pistol up. helmet tilted just enough that she can see tex out of the corner of her eye, because she doesn't trust the other agent. how could she possibly trust her, when she's such a large part of the reason york and maine are both hurt? when tex means the director tells carolina less than ever before?
"- And I won't take orders from a shadow."
"What did you just call me?"
she needs to stop this, deescalate. carolina tries to talk over tex: "You're coming with us, CT. This is your last chance."
"No, I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Actually, we don't need you. We just need your armour."
tex fires the first shot and, uncharacteristically, carolina freezes, rooted to the spot with an anguish she could never even begin to articulate. this isn't how this was supposed to go. they were supposed to talk, connie was supposed to agree to come back to the mother of invention, spitting mad but home. connie not coming back in more or less one piece isn't supposed to be an option.
the other three all move, though. connie's gotten so good at using her decoy and carolina almost wants to be proud, half rooting for her when she twists one of tex's arms behind her back and carolina can hear one of her knives sink into places knives aren't meant to go.
by the time tex hits the ground hard (no one's lucky enough for that to kill her, it just slows her for a moment) carolina isn't frozen anymore, darting out of the way of something sharp and weighted thrown at her before connie's there, slashing, driving carolina back a few steps before connie's blade tears the pistol from carolina's hand, sending it far out of reach.
(impressive, carolina wants to tell her, like this is just a training match where they've done that move a hundred times before. she doesn't have the skill with knives that connie does, probably never will.)
one weapon is easily replaced with another, her stun baton swinging up, finding somewhere calculated to connect so that she sees the electricity cause spasms through connie's body, slowing her down long enough for carolina to put a boot to her chest, kicking her back, and- ]
Fuck.
[ the memory cuts off abruptly, in the middle of a motion, when carolina realizes far too late that she's fucking sharing it, like that's something wash ever needed to see, like that's not adding insult to injury because she couldn't bring connie home.
when carolina jerks back, out of reach of wash's touch, it's complete, backing up far enough that she hits the wall behind her in the process. ]
Wash, I'm so- [ she doesn't have a word to go there, just a frustrated sob of a sound. ]
[ Carolina settles a cold hand in his and Wash feels her emotions settle against his in a similar fashion -- unpleasant but expected. Enough like what he's feeling that instead of setting him off worse he just feels like they understand each other, and she gets back an echo of the same frustration and anger tinged with a sense of loss, as Wash starts cleaning her knuckles.
It's not until he's going for the gauze again to wrap one of the deeper scratches that's still bleeding that the memory Carolina is so focused on comes through. He goes still as a statue, having never experienced this before. It's different from the empathy bond, that he's so used to, more immersive and terrifying for that. Perhaps his burst of startled fear is what tips Carolina off, but by then his grip on her hand has tightened to the point she'll have to actively yank away.
Because this is something Wash actually wants to see, in a morbid, grief-soaked way.
He never really knew how it went down, with Connie. And he'd told himself it didn't matter, but he'd then gone on to imagine it, and his imagination tended to be worse than the reality. But Carolina pulls away from him when she realizes, leaving him shaken and unsteady with both hands still out in midair, blinking in horrified, desperate fascination.
She's going to cry, and what's the worst part of this is he doesn't think to comfort her first, he has to check himself from lashing out that she cut off the memory. He needs to see it.
"We don't need you, just your armor," fuck is right. How bad did it get? How much did she suffer? Who landed the final blow? ]
Don't-- please. [ He chokes it out, inarticulately, his voice strained and shaken. ] I need to see the rest.
[ he says he needs to see the rest and she believes that, knows she'd probably beg the same if it was maine or york or north's death she had started to watch. it was either see it through or know nothing at all.
carolina understands and she still has one selfish second where she almost refuses.
but it's wash and she can't do that to him and nothing's going to help right now anyway, so she just makes herself take a deep breath before she steps close again, grabbing his hands in both of her own, gripping so tightly that it hurts.
it's a few overwhelmingly painful seconds of having her eyes closed before she manages to more or less sort out where in the memory she was. a few seconds down the line, maybe, but nothing major has changed. she's still not fighting with anything but her stun baton.
and knives may be connie's specialty, but carolina's specialty is fighting close and she's always prided herself on being able to fight anyone to a standstill. that's the plan. wear connie down until she's out of weapons and surrenders.
(the mother of invention has a brig. she'll make sure the director keeps connie there instead of trying to turn her over to anybody else. she'll come around.)
carolina knocks her teammate back but connie recovers quickly, feinting with her decoy quick enough to catch caroling off guard with a kick to the chest, sending her stumbling back a few paces. even now, reaching back to this decade old memory, she feels the air leave her lungs.
up until this point, she hasn't really given a shit about what the other soldiers in the room are doing. tex and the leader are fighting, if she lucks out, they'll kill one another. she's clearly not that lucky, because the next parries she exchanges with connie happen as the two fights try to get out of the other's way, too close for two fights this out of control to safely happen.
(and if tex is so goddamn perfect, why isn't connie's accomplice dead yet?)
the leader gets too close behind her while connie is catching her balance and she's quick to kick him back towards tex. she hears him hit the ground hard but connie is lunging at her again and carolina's back to trying to wear her down. there's a little superficial damage to the underarmour on her forearms, but connie hasn't scored a real hit yet. carolina has kept the electric current to her weapon off for what feels like forever now.
she's not fighting to kill. she's barely fighting to injure. she should be good enough to pull this off.
a glance to check in on tex's position distracts carolina long enough that it's easier to jump out of the way of the next swipe of connie's blade and carolina takes advantage of that, kicking the knife from her teammate's hand. it hits the ceiling - sticks or bounces, unsure, doesn't matter - and carolina hits the ground at a perfect angle to roll into sweep connie off her feet with another well placed kick.
tex sweeps in while carolina gets back to her feet, picking up the tomahawk she'd had embedded in her chestplate in the first portion of the memory and swinging it too high to actually catch connie - and please, connie's centre of gravity is low already, she keeps it even lower when she's dodging, that just means that tex doesn't know how connie fights. means tex shouldn't be here.
connie activates her decoy again and there's a moment the room is almost still. carolina thinks so, at least, because she sees tex look to the second tomahawk, the one carolina had dodged earlier and carolina knows she's going for it before tex can even move.
and then the fight, the mission, matter a lot less than the fact that the reason her two best teammates are damaged now has two lethal weapons she's about to swing at a friend. fuck the mission. carolina lunges for tex and misses her as the ai steps forward, swinging the weapons low.
one of the connies fizzles out. the other staggers back, a tomahawk lodged in her side.
tex grabs the second tomahawk and throws it with enough force that it knocks connie back into the wall as it embeds in her chestplate.
there's a rise in carolina's panic-laced grief here, that seems to mirror her response in the memory. up until now, her hud has been a useless bit of extra information, always in her periphery but clearly unimportant. now it lights up as she activates it, trying to sync to connie's armour, trying to read her vital signs. there's a whole list of two-letter call signs to choose from (and TX doesn't read anything, never will read anything) but no CT. nobody else's status matters right now because she needs to know how bad connie's condition is. she needs to know how to help.
even as she tries to resync, she steps up behind tex, grabbing her shoulder, only to be immediately brushed off.
"What the hell are you doing?"
her voice pitches high, the tone a familiar one for wash, even if he never would have heard it back then. he hears it now.
"Completing our objective."
"By killing a teammate?"
(she's trying her hud again. why can't she just fucking see how bad it is?)
"She's not a teammate, she's a traitor."
and god, so focused on being pissed off with one another, neither of them have noticed that their enemies have gotten to their feet- the leader supporting connie, helping her to the facility's clearly marked escape pod. the door closes automatically behind them as carolina takes a few furious, futile steps forward.
"Damnit! That's on you." tex waves a hand in carolina's face, as if scolding her. "I guess you can explain how we lost a full suit of armour and failed to capture the leader of the resistance."
the clarity of the memory wavers, tex making a call for extraction as carolina takes a step back, trying to check on her team again, wanting some stupid proof that those injuries weren't as lethal as they look. she sorts her team by proximity and TX lists first without any vitals attached. NY shows next. of course he isn't far away. she sorts alphabetically and- florida's okay, apparently. it's not a surprise. it doesn't really matter right now, because that's not how her team should sort.
background noise in the memory fades away as carolina loses track of what happens next, when it's all just noise and anger and tex winning again, killing a friend in the process. carolina gives up trying to hold it and lets go of wash's hands again as she steps back, her shoulders trembling. one aching hand comes up to press against her mouth, but it doesn't really muffle the sound of her crying. not much could. ]
[ By the time it's over and Carolina is pulling away from him, Wash is pale and nauseated. Because that must have hurt, even if it was over for her fast, and he wants to be angry at Tex. He does. It would be easier to blame her for going for the kill than to break down what actually happened, who's actually responsible. The goddamn fucking Project, the Director and the Counselor and their games. Blame the right people, Wash tells himself, but it's hard when he just watched Tex kill his friend.
He breathes slow, leaning back against and gripping the edge of the sink. He understands how Sharkface feels anew in this moment, how hard it is to sort out who to be angry at especially when you're grieving. Wash never really got over Connie. Never really got over any of them. Still dreams of finding their armor. Dreams of being caught in the tow cable that dragged the Meta to his death, of drowning beside Maine. Relieves Epsilon shattering to pieces inside him, and imagines what it was like for the AI to do it again by choice to save the Reds and Blues. So much pain and suffering, with such a broad spread, that it feels like they'll never make up for, never be done with. That keeps coming back to haunt them one way or another. That still hurts no matter how he's tried to shut down or heal or -- it'll never really go away. So yes. He understands Sharkface. And Carolina, who he's left to cry alone against the bathroom wall while he sorts through the grief and anger.
That's not okay, he thinks. She might be the only one he can actually do something for. ]
H-hey. Carolina.
[ This might make it worse, honestly. Start off some kind of a feedback loop of pain and misery, but it's the only thing he can think to do. He can't leave her alone like this.
Still gripping the sink with one hand, Wash lifts his other, stretching his arm out invitingly. She can choose whether she wants the hug or not, whether she can handle contact. Maybe he should try to think of things besides the memory so they feel better, but the angry part of him that's been there since he was a child wants to sink down into the pain until he's tired of it and can turn it into something useful. Another part, the guilty part, wants to dig his heels in until he hurts enough. It's the third that desperately wants Carolina not to suffer, and he doesn't know which part will win out. He doesn't know for sure yet what's going to happen or what Carolina wants, but this is all he can offer. She can take the risk or not. ]
It wasn't your fault.
[ He should clarify that much, at least, so that if she accepts the contact and feels his rage knows it isn't directed at her. ]
[ this would be easier if she was alone, carolina thinks. she truly, genuinely hates crying and crying like this isn't something she wants to share with anyone. she'll share so much with wash but how is she supposed to come back from this? how is she supposed to have a conversation when she's just showed him that, when she's sobbing so hard that her legs threaten to give out under her as she leans a little harder into the wall?
she's cried like this in front of someone else exactly once in at least twenty years. early in their first visit to chorus, epsilon in her head, palpably torn between straight up leaving until she got it out of her system and some awkward, unsteady, "how the fuck am I supposed to help?" in the end, he had stayed, let her cry herself out. asked her to please never do that again and complained about her being a mess when she finally caught her breath, even as he filled her head with warm affection.
wash isn't any less important or safe to her than epsilon was, but she still hates this.
so she can't go to him just yet, looking at him with tear-filled eyes before it's too much and "it wasn't your fault" feels like the cruelest lie. of course connie's death is her fault. all of their deaths are.
she manages to stumble a few steps over to sit on the closed toilet seat instead of outright sinking to the floor and drops her head into her hands as her elbows dig into her knees. her hands straight up hurt now and she's been clenching them so tightly that the worst of the jagged scrapes on her knuckles has the odd trickle of blood slipping over the back of her hand, down her wrist to soak into the sleeve of her sweater. she'll clean it later. right now, the pain is of some twisted benefit to her now and she uses it to anchor herself as she draws deep, shuddering breaths. tries to stop crying. tries to feel less guilty and angry and broken about the whole thing.
eventually, she calms down enough to try speaking, but she's still not really calm, anxiety still crushing her chest and anger still heating her face. ]
I wanted her to come home.
[ in all fairness, she knows connie probably didn't think of the mother of invention as home. a comfortable enough ship to be stationed on, full of people she might have trusted at one far-removed time but not anymore. it was home for carolina, more than the quiet house on earth ever was, because it's where her family was. where she'd felt the safest, right up until the end.
when carolina says home, she just means wherever her people are.
she lifts her head slightly, glancing up at wash and breathing out a quiet, ] I tried.
[ Wash doesn't push the issue. Carolina doesn't come to him, she sits down instead and he drops his arm, lets go of the sink... and gives in to the weak sick feeling to sit against the wall across from her, knees bent up. Their boots are touching, but there's no bond. He lets Carolina cry herself out, feeing helpless and tired, his own eyes burning. But if he cried himself it'd be angry, and he doesn't want to be angry anymore. It's so tempting to wrap himself up in it like a blanket, but. They've seen what that does. Both to him and to Sharkface, to Carolina herself.
He sits quietly, head tilted back to watch her, stomaching twisting. Finally, she speaks. Looks up at him a little and is just so sad, Wash almost can't take it. But he stays with her. ]
[ carolina nods, then drops her head again, not wanting to watch wash for too long. not when she's trying to compose herself, when now she's terrified of sharing what's happened to him. she had known about the memory sharing aspect of the new abilities that came with being displaced, but she hadn't thought much of it, hadn't thought to ask anybody how exactly it worked. wash is the only person she ever really touches anyway and he keeps her feeling so even-keeled that she's gotten less concerned with hiding feelings from him. even when he gets a flicker of something that might be damning, it's hardly as if his injury is the only thing she has to feel guilty about.
it's clearly mistaken now, but she thought she had to want to share memories. not just be stuck in her head and trying to let someone help her. carolina thinks she can avoid this in the future, probably - keep it tucked away in key moments the way she'd kept memories tucked away from her ai, when she'd had them. keeping things from epsilon had been futile sometimes and he still poked around wherever he wanted to, digging out snippets to fill in the blanks he got from the director's memories, but with the twins, it had worked. she'd hidden her least rational fears from eta, hidden the way york made her feel once upon a time from iota.
she can do this.
tugging her sleeves down over her palms, she takes a deep breath and starts trying to wipe her face off, adding to the mess around the wrists and ensuring that she definitely needs to do laundry before the day is up. it's a later problem. right now, it takes a while before she finds her voice again. ]
Before Tex engaged her, Connie was talking about how we'd all be paying for what the Director did by the end of the Project. How we already were. I feel like I've been trying to fix everything he broke forever and it'll never stop, I'll never catch up. Like I'm going to be trying to atone for Project Freelancer until it kills me.
[ carolina draws another shaky breath and looks up again, seeking wash's gaze. her face is splotchy, expression anguished, but she's gotten herself back under control. ]
[ There's a long moment where Wash just meets her eyes quietly, not knowing what to say or do. He's tired of it, too, but mostly for Carolina's sake -- he can and should blame himself for things but feels like she's really gotten the brunt of it all and it's not fair. It's not. He's so sorry for it, but he can't fix it for her and that guts him. As always, Carolina is the one protecting him. Can't it be the other way around, just once?
He sighs, then leans forward and reaches up to grab the icepack off the edge of the sink and gives it a twist and shake to activate the cold. If she's not going to let him clean her other hand yet she can at least keep the swelling down. Even with her sleeves pulled down Wash can tell her knuckles are puffy and bruising. ]
I feel the same way. [ he finally says, trying to put it into words, ] But you seem to get blamed more than I do. Maybe because you were the leader, maybe because you were the best of us, I don't... I don't know, honestly. But I'm not going to let atonement kill you. Or let you kill yourself trying to atone.
We've left each other alone before, it didn't end well either time. I'm not leaving you ever again.
[ when her eyes fill with tears again, at least it's for a different reason. it had taken carolina so long to see him fully as her equal and then he turns around and... he's her best friend, knows her better than anyone else ever has. and still says shit like that to her. still wants to stay with her.
she's missed him being himself and she loves him so much and she doesn't mind that she has to duck her head to wipe her face off another time, sniffling a little behind her hands as she pulls herself back together. she'll sort words out in a minute, once she's stopped crying again, because this is embarrassing as hell. it's a long, painful few seconds, but eventually she manages and sits upright to take a deep breath, pushing the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows, baring her forearms and the mess that is the back of her hands.
reaching out to brush her fingertips across the back of one of his hands is her way of accepting help from him now and serves the bonus purpose of sharing just how much she appreciates him. she's so bad at words but for all the grief and pain and exhaustion simmering beneath the surface, the most obvious thing she shares with him is affection: warm, protective love. ]
I'm not leaving you, either.
[ because she has to keep looking out for him, yes, but also because she needs him far more than she'll ever be capable of admitting. ]
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[ She's not, though. Okay. Safe, maybe, but not okay. Something tells Wash she doesn't want him to ask after that, so. He just nods. ]
Thank you. I hope it holds. [ He sighs, hearing thuds coming from the stairwell. Probably Carolina punching a wall, and he should check on her, but-- ] Can I try to fix your jacket for you?
[ It's the absolute least he can do, at this point. ]
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But it's a truce. It's time. Maybe that's all that matters now.
She looks at the thin slice on her jacket then to David. Earlier, before all of this, she would have considered it. Now it's a debt she'll have to repay and she'd rather not have any open favors anymore.]
It'll fix itself on its own in time.
[True enough. Self-repairing nanotech sure is something.]
You two going to be okay?
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[ He shrugs. Carolina will cool down, he'll continue to bottle it up. They'll manage, with the assurance they've gotten that Sharkface won't be coming after them for vengeance, at least right now. And if he does, well. That's on them to deal with, they've all caused Angela more than enough trouble. He wouldn't blame her for never wanting to see them again, thinks it's pretty amazing how civil she's being with him right now. ]
...I meant it, you know. I didn't mean to mislead anybody. Not you, either. We really appreciate your trying to help.
[ A little nod, and he's ducking his head and turning away to go check on his best friend, who may well be breaking her hand without him to stop her. ]
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And the cost?
It doesn't matter.
Ginia mulls on his words as she walks with him. At this point, it's best to be civilized, walk out of the building together before going their separate ways. Keep calm, don't make a scene.]
I didn't do anything in the end.
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[ He opens the door to the stairs and holds it for Angela, starts down. The dull thuds are louder in here and two landings down they find Carolina -- Wash snags her wrist, careful to catch her over her sleeve, and tilts his head towards Angela. 'She's leaving, say something,' his expression somehow manages to communicate, as he peers at her hand to see if she's hurt herself. ]
cw minor self harm + blood
the knuckles are bloodied and already puffy on both hands - she's never had a preference for swinging one over the other - but she gives it up by the time wash's feet hit her landing. they hurt and they will hurt, but it's nothing, really. just a sensation that feels a little better than just leaving for dragging her out of her head. her arm trembles just a touch with his grip on her wrist, but it has more to do with the tension she's barely keeping contained within herself than her actual hands.
she opens her mouth to scream about how goddamn unfair this all is, to still be haunted by the worst things that came out of project freelancer, but they're not alone. she snaps her lips shut and inhales hard through her nose, composes herself enough to look at ginia. ]
I'm sure it doesn't look it - [ there's a tremble in her voice, too, something between rage and tears. ] - But I'm grateful for your help, Angela.
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She felt like she had a place to belong. Someone who had her back, a friend she could count on.
Now she's alone again and though she wants to blame everyone else, maybe it's ultimately no fault but her own. For daring to want more. For thinking she could connect with people. That she could be a human too.
Her eyes glance away, not wanting to look at the two of them, even if she can hear the difficulty in Carolina's voice. They all have the things they're dealing with. Their difficulties. It's not only her.]
I didn't do anything.
[She repeats what she signed to David. It's true. Nothing she said to Ephemera mattered, nothing she ever did counted for anything. Her chest feels tight and she wants to cry, but there's no space for any weakness when all she has is herself to count on.]
You two need anything before I head out?
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I don't think so... we're okay.
[ Then, almost like he's nervous asking: ]
Will I see you on my run tomorrow?
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I'm working an early shift.
[It's not even a lie. She has plenty of time to make up, what with disappearing for long periods at a time. It feels like she's on thin ice with her landscaping job and maybe it's one of the last few nice things in her life.]
Sorry.
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[ He nods a polite goodbye and tilts his head towards the next flight down; he and Carolina start moving towards the exit. One thing at a time, he tells himself. Get home. Take care of Carolina's hands. Make sure she's okay. ]
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she doesn't talk on the way back to their apartment, refuses to seek out his touch the way they've gotten used to doing for one another in the last few days. it had been a surprisingly easy thing to get used to, the empathy. wash had been a tactile source of comfort before but it's different here, usually better.
but it's not what she wants right now and even once they're safely back in their apartment, she's not seeking it out, just heading to the bathroom to start washing her hands in the coldest water their tap will provide. ]
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He heads into the bathroom with the items and doesn't bother asking permission, just turns off the water and sets everything down, holding out a hand for hers. ]
Let me.
[ It's only barely still a request, and there's one hidden underneath. 'Don't hide from me.' ]
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and isn't going to let her.
her hands drop to the edge of the counter when he turns the water off, but her fingers don't grip as tight as they could and now that it's had time to blossom, the bruising and faint swelling along the back of her hands and over her knuckles is apparent.
carolina knows she's only prolonging the inevitable, but she doesn't take his hand right away, just lifting her head so she can look at his reflection in the vanity mirror. it feels easier to manage somehow. baby steps so she can make herself connect with him again. ]
At least we know he's not coming for us.
[ she doesn't sound so angry now, just exhausted, on the verge of tears. she'd probably feel better about things if she still sounded angry. ]
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[ Except Wash is pretty sure the only reason he was able to be talked down, convinced to see reason, was that he murdered Angela. And that's on them. But Wash isn't going to dump that on Carolina right now, even if she'll feel his guilt when she takes his hand. It could be from any number of things. Whatever. He keeps his hand out, waiting patiently, the frustration and disappointment that he'd locked down when in front of Sharkface creeping back now that it's just them. ]
We hoped for too much too fast.
[ He says it again to Carolina, trying to sound reasonable rather than bitter. Objectively, things like forgiveness take time, sometimes it never happens. This might be one of those things. He just hates that it feels like the blame, the punishment, is never going to end. ]
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[ she's agreeing for his sake, because it sounds reasonable and rational and she needs to pretend she's a reasonable person until she actually can be again.
we hoped for too much. what had carolina even hoped for, really? a civil conversation? some conclusion that he could hate their guts and still be capable of ignoring it? it hadn't felt like too much. but it's still unsatisfying and just how easily she can see the disappointment in wash's face doesn't help.
like not being able to fix this has let him down again. like it's dumb luck and people who are practically strangers to thank for him not being hurt again at the hands of someone fucked over by project freelancer. like every time she thinks she has all of the director's bullshit patched up and dealt with, it comes back.
he's still breaking her family from beyond the grave. she's still paying for his crimes.
(and god, connie really did have the whole thing figured out, if only anyone could have talked to her.)
she lets her eyes close, takes a deep breath. ]
I'm sorry he found out who you were.
[ she's sorry for a lot of things, but she can voice that safely, at least. ]
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[ His jaw works, gaze on Carolina's hands where they're gripping the sink. There's blood seeping from her knuckles to stain the porcelain, and Wash softens his voice a little. ]
Let me patch you up.
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[ other things might, when they're in a better place, when they banter, but not that. friendships can form fast and wash is nothing if not endearing.
which means she can't keep him at arm's length indefinitely, carolina taking a few more seconds to decide what's safe to think about - anger is easy, so's frustration, but she can keep the guilt away the way she used to keep her anxiety away from eta and iota. it's not there, not for them.
anything but temple, she tells herself, and finally lifts a hand to put it in his- cold to the touch and still dripping with water, but at least she's touching him.
except anything but temple drags her mind to a different memory and for the moment, it's too vivid to ignore.
a dark room, connie and a soldier opposite her, her pistol up. helmet tilted just enough that she can see tex out of the corner of her eye, because she doesn't trust the other agent. how could she possibly trust her, when she's such a large part of the reason york and maine are both hurt? when tex means the director tells carolina less than ever before?
"- And I won't take orders from a shadow."
"What did you just call me?"
she needs to stop this, deescalate. carolina tries to talk over tex: "You're coming with us, CT. This is your last chance."
"No, I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Actually, we don't need you. We just need your armour."
tex fires the first shot and, uncharacteristically, carolina freezes, rooted to the spot with an anguish she could never even begin to articulate. this isn't how this was supposed to go. they were supposed to talk, connie was supposed to agree to come back to the mother of invention, spitting mad but home. connie not coming back in more or less one piece isn't supposed to be an option.
the other three all move, though. connie's gotten so good at using her decoy and carolina almost wants to be proud, half rooting for her when she twists one of tex's arms behind her back and carolina can hear one of her knives sink into places knives aren't meant to go.
by the time tex hits the ground hard (no one's lucky enough for that to kill her, it just slows her for a moment) carolina isn't frozen anymore, darting out of the way of something sharp and weighted thrown at her before connie's there, slashing, driving carolina back a few steps before connie's blade tears the pistol from carolina's hand, sending it far out of reach.
(impressive, carolina wants to tell her, like this is just a training match where they've done that move a hundred times before. she doesn't have the skill with knives that connie does, probably never will.)
one weapon is easily replaced with another, her stun baton swinging up, finding somewhere calculated to connect so that she sees the electricity cause spasms through connie's body, slowing her down long enough for carolina to put a boot to her chest, kicking her back, and- ]
Fuck.
[ the memory cuts off abruptly, in the middle of a motion, when carolina realizes far too late that she's fucking sharing it, like that's something wash ever needed to see, like that's not adding insult to injury because she couldn't bring connie home.
when carolina jerks back, out of reach of wash's touch, it's complete, backing up far enough that she hits the wall behind her in the process. ]
Wash, I'm so- [ she doesn't have a word to go there, just a frustrated sob of a sound. ]
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It's not until he's going for the gauze again to wrap one of the deeper scratches that's still bleeding that the memory Carolina is so focused on comes through. He goes still as a statue, having never experienced this before. It's different from the empathy bond, that he's so used to, more immersive and terrifying for that. Perhaps his burst of startled fear is what tips Carolina off, but by then his grip on her hand has tightened to the point she'll have to actively yank away.
Because this is something Wash actually wants to see, in a morbid, grief-soaked way.
He never really knew how it went down, with Connie. And he'd told himself it didn't matter, but he'd then gone on to imagine it, and his imagination tended to be worse than the reality. But Carolina pulls away from him when she realizes, leaving him shaken and unsteady with both hands still out in midair, blinking in horrified, desperate fascination.
She's going to cry, and what's the worst part of this is he doesn't think to comfort her first, he has to check himself from lashing out that she cut off the memory. He needs to see it.
"We don't need you, just your armor," fuck is right. How bad did it get? How much did she suffer? Who landed the final blow? ]
Don't-- please. [ He chokes it out, inarticulately, his voice strained and shaken. ] I need to see the rest.
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carolina understands and she still has one selfish second where she almost refuses.
but it's wash and she can't do that to him and nothing's going to help right now anyway, so she just makes herself take a deep breath before she steps close again, grabbing his hands in both of her own, gripping so tightly that it hurts.
it's a few overwhelmingly painful seconds of having her eyes closed before she manages to more or less sort out where in the memory she was. a few seconds down the line, maybe, but nothing major has changed. she's still not fighting with anything but her stun baton.
and knives may be connie's specialty, but carolina's specialty is fighting close and she's always prided herself on being able to fight anyone to a standstill. that's the plan. wear connie down until she's out of weapons and surrenders.
(the mother of invention has a brig. she'll make sure the director keeps connie there instead of trying to turn her over to anybody else. she'll come around.)
carolina knocks her teammate back but connie recovers quickly, feinting with her decoy quick enough to catch caroling off guard with a kick to the chest, sending her stumbling back a few paces. even now, reaching back to this decade old memory, she feels the air leave her lungs.
up until this point, she hasn't really given a shit about what the other soldiers in the room are doing. tex and the leader are fighting, if she lucks out, they'll kill one another. she's clearly not that lucky, because the next parries she exchanges with connie happen as the two fights try to get out of the other's way, too close for two fights this out of control to safely happen.
(and if tex is so goddamn perfect, why isn't connie's accomplice dead yet?)
the leader gets too close behind her while connie is catching her balance and she's quick to kick him back towards tex. she hears him hit the ground hard but connie is lunging at her again and carolina's back to trying to wear her down. there's a little superficial damage to the underarmour on her forearms, but connie hasn't scored a real hit yet. carolina has kept the electric current to her weapon off for what feels like forever now.
she's not fighting to kill. she's barely fighting to injure. she should be good enough to pull this off.
a glance to check in on tex's position distracts carolina long enough that it's easier to jump out of the way of the next swipe of connie's blade and carolina takes advantage of that, kicking the knife from her teammate's hand. it hits the ceiling - sticks or bounces, unsure, doesn't matter - and carolina hits the ground at a perfect angle to roll into sweep connie off her feet with another well placed kick.
tex sweeps in while carolina gets back to her feet, picking up the tomahawk she'd had embedded in her chestplate in the first portion of the memory and swinging it too high to actually catch connie - and please, connie's centre of gravity is low already, she keeps it even lower when she's dodging, that just means that tex doesn't know how connie fights. means tex shouldn't be here.
connie activates her decoy again and there's a moment the room is almost still. carolina thinks so, at least, because she sees tex look to the second tomahawk, the one carolina had dodged earlier and carolina knows she's going for it before tex can even move.
and then the fight, the mission, matter a lot less than the fact that the reason her two best teammates are damaged now has two lethal weapons she's about to swing at a friend. fuck the mission. carolina lunges for tex and misses her as the ai steps forward, swinging the weapons low.
one of the connies fizzles out. the other staggers back, a tomahawk lodged in her side.
tex grabs the second tomahawk and throws it with enough force that it knocks connie back into the wall as it embeds in her chestplate.
there's a rise in carolina's panic-laced grief here, that seems to mirror her response in the memory. up until now, her hud has been a useless bit of extra information, always in her periphery but clearly unimportant. now it lights up as she activates it, trying to sync to connie's armour, trying to read her vital signs. there's a whole list of two-letter call signs to choose from (and TX doesn't read anything, never will read anything) but no CT. nobody else's status matters right now because she needs to know how bad connie's condition is. she needs to know how to help.
even as she tries to resync, she steps up behind tex, grabbing her shoulder, only to be immediately brushed off.
"What the hell are you doing?"
her voice pitches high, the tone a familiar one for wash, even if he never would have heard it back then. he hears it now.
"Completing our objective."
"By killing a teammate?"
(she's trying her hud again. why can't she just fucking see how bad it is?)
"She's not a teammate, she's a traitor."
and god, so focused on being pissed off with one another, neither of them have noticed that their enemies have gotten to their feet- the leader supporting connie, helping her to the facility's clearly marked escape pod. the door closes automatically behind them as carolina takes a few furious, futile steps forward.
"Damnit! That's on you." tex waves a hand in carolina's face, as if scolding her. "I guess you can explain how we lost a full suit of armour and failed to capture the leader of the resistance."
the clarity of the memory wavers, tex making a call for extraction as carolina takes a step back, trying to check on her team again, wanting some stupid proof that those injuries weren't as lethal as they look. she sorts her team by proximity and TX lists first without any vitals attached. NY shows next. of course he isn't far away. she sorts alphabetically and- florida's okay, apparently. it's not a surprise. it doesn't really matter right now, because that's not how her team should sort.
background noise in the memory fades away as carolina loses track of what happens next, when it's all just noise and anger and tex winning again, killing a friend in the process. carolina gives up trying to hold it and lets go of wash's hands again as she steps back, her shoulders trembling. one aching hand comes up to press against her mouth, but it doesn't really muffle the sound of her crying. not much could. ]
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He breathes slow, leaning back against and gripping the edge of the sink. He understands how Sharkface feels anew in this moment, how hard it is to sort out who to be angry at especially when you're grieving. Wash never really got over Connie. Never really got over any of them. Still dreams of finding their armor. Dreams of being caught in the tow cable that dragged the Meta to his death, of drowning beside Maine. Relieves Epsilon shattering to pieces inside him, and imagines what it was like for the AI to do it again by choice to save the Reds and Blues. So much pain and suffering, with such a broad spread, that it feels like they'll never make up for, never be done with. That keeps coming back to haunt them one way or another. That still hurts no matter how he's tried to shut down or heal or -- it'll never really go away. So yes. He understands Sharkface. And Carolina, who he's left to cry alone against the bathroom wall while he sorts through the grief and anger.
That's not okay, he thinks. She might be the only one he can actually do something for. ]
H-hey. Carolina.
[ This might make it worse, honestly. Start off some kind of a feedback loop of pain and misery, but it's the only thing he can think to do. He can't leave her alone like this.
Still gripping the sink with one hand, Wash lifts his other, stretching his arm out invitingly. She can choose whether she wants the hug or not, whether she can handle contact. Maybe he should try to think of things besides the memory so they feel better, but the angry part of him that's been there since he was a child wants to sink down into the pain until he's tired of it and can turn it into something useful. Another part, the guilty part, wants to dig his heels in until he hurts enough. It's the third that desperately wants Carolina not to suffer, and he doesn't know which part will win out. He doesn't know for sure yet what's going to happen or what Carolina wants, but this is all he can offer. She can take the risk or not. ]
It wasn't your fault.
[ He should clarify that much, at least, so that if she accepts the contact and feels his rage knows it isn't directed at her. ]
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she's cried like this in front of someone else exactly once in at least twenty years. early in their first visit to chorus, epsilon in her head, palpably torn between straight up leaving until she got it out of her system and some awkward, unsteady, "how the fuck am I supposed to help?" in the end, he had stayed, let her cry herself out. asked her to please never do that again and complained about her being a mess when she finally caught her breath, even as he filled her head with warm affection.
wash isn't any less important or safe to her than epsilon was, but she still hates this.
so she can't go to him just yet, looking at him with tear-filled eyes before it's too much and "it wasn't your fault" feels like the cruelest lie. of course connie's death is her fault. all of their deaths are.
she manages to stumble a few steps over to sit on the closed toilet seat instead of outright sinking to the floor and drops her head into her hands as her elbows dig into her knees. her hands straight up hurt now and she's been clenching them so tightly that the worst of the jagged scrapes on her knuckles has the odd trickle of blood slipping over the back of her hand, down her wrist to soak into the sleeve of her sweater. she'll clean it later. right now, the pain is of some twisted benefit to her now and she uses it to anchor herself as she draws deep, shuddering breaths. tries to stop crying. tries to feel less guilty and angry and broken about the whole thing.
eventually, she calms down enough to try speaking, but she's still not really calm, anxiety still crushing her chest and anger still heating her face. ]
I wanted her to come home.
[ in all fairness, she knows connie probably didn't think of the mother of invention as home. a comfortable enough ship to be stationed on, full of people she might have trusted at one far-removed time but not anymore. it was home for carolina, more than the quiet house on earth ever was, because it's where her family was. where she'd felt the safest, right up until the end.
when carolina says home, she just means wherever her people are.
she lifts her head slightly, glancing up at wash and breathing out a quiet, ] I tried.
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He sits quietly, head tilted back to watch her, stomaching twisting. Finally, she speaks. Looks up at him a little and is just so sad, Wash almost can't take it. But he stays with her. ]
...I know now.
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it's clearly mistaken now, but she thought she had to want to share memories. not just be stuck in her head and trying to let someone help her. carolina thinks she can avoid this in the future, probably - keep it tucked away in key moments the way she'd kept memories tucked away from her ai, when she'd had them. keeping things from epsilon had been futile sometimes and he still poked around wherever he wanted to, digging out snippets to fill in the blanks he got from the director's memories, but with the twins, it had worked. she'd hidden her least rational fears from eta, hidden the way york made her feel once upon a time from iota.
she can do this.
tugging her sleeves down over her palms, she takes a deep breath and starts trying to wipe her face off, adding to the mess around the wrists and ensuring that she definitely needs to do laundry before the day is up. it's a later problem. right now, it takes a while before she finds her voice again. ]
Before Tex engaged her, Connie was talking about how we'd all be paying for what the Director did by the end of the Project. How we already were. I feel like I've been trying to fix everything he broke forever and it'll never stop, I'll never catch up. Like I'm going to be trying to atone for Project Freelancer until it kills me.
[ carolina draws another shaky breath and looks up again, seeking wash's gaze. her face is splotchy, expression anguished, but she's gotten herself back under control. ]
David... I'm so tired of it.
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He sighs, then leans forward and reaches up to grab the icepack off the edge of the sink and gives it a twist and shake to activate the cold. If she's not going to let him clean her other hand yet she can at least keep the swelling down. Even with her sleeves pulled down Wash can tell her knuckles are puffy and bruising. ]
I feel the same way. [ he finally says, trying to put it into words, ] But you seem to get blamed more than I do. Maybe because you were the leader, maybe because you were the best of us, I don't... I don't know, honestly. But I'm not going to let atonement kill you. Or let you kill yourself trying to atone.
We've left each other alone before, it didn't end well either time. I'm not leaving you ever again.
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she's missed him being himself and she loves him so much and she doesn't mind that she has to duck her head to wipe her face off another time, sniffling a little behind her hands as she pulls herself back together. she'll sort words out in a minute, once she's stopped crying again, because this is embarrassing as hell. it's a long, painful few seconds, but eventually she manages and sits upright to take a deep breath, pushing the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows, baring her forearms and the mess that is the back of her hands.
reaching out to brush her fingertips across the back of one of his hands is her way of accepting help from him now and serves the bonus purpose of sharing just how much she appreciates him. she's so bad at words but for all the grief and pain and exhaustion simmering beneath the surface, the most obvious thing she shares with him is affection: warm, protective love. ]
I'm not leaving you, either.
[ because she has to keep looking out for him, yes, but also because she needs him far more than she'll ever be capable of admitting. ]
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