There is a woman sitting particularly close to the hospital bed, a cane at her side, leaning on the bed - from one too many injuries to the same leg - her red hair long since gone gray. She seems to be the most openly affectionate with him. Whether that's because they're something more to each other than friends, or simply very physically affectionate friends, is hard to say. What is clear is that they're very, very close.
He's on oxygen.
"I think it's almost time," he breathes out, catching her gaze.
"Are you sure, Wash?" asks an older man wearing mostly pink. "You could still try that genetic therapy again, they said it's not too late."
"It's time," Wash repeats firmly. "The treatments don't last long enough. And I still feel like death warmed over when they're done. I hate it."
Donut sits back, his expression sad.
"If you're ready," Carolina sniffles and has trouble getting the rest of the words out, "then you're ready."
"It's okay?" Wash asks, as if it's not entirely his choice, because it's hard to let go of feeling like he needs to be there for them. It's like he needs permission.
"It's not our call," says Carolina. "It's your choice, old man."
She says "old man" like she doesn't look almost as ancient.
She goes on, "But if you need someone to say it...it's okay, David. We'll be okay. You don't have to keep fighting forever. No one can. No one should have to."
With that, she leans over to press a kiss to his forehead, and then one to the knuckles of one hand. The worry lines on his face stop creasing so sharply.
"I know you - I know it's hard to stay, but - but I don't want you to go, Agent Washington," says another man with an almost childlike voice, with deep sadness. "Because you're going to go, aren't you. Like most of Red Team. And Church."
It's still "agent" after all these years, because that's what he was when they met. And it's hard sometimes for Caboose to remember things. Especially now that he's older. Memory fades with age, and his was...never that great to begin.
"Think about it this way, Caboose," says Wash, "Where I'm going, most of Red Team is already there, setting up their base. And you know Church didn't get much done in all these years, so Blue Team's already playing catch-up. I have to help Church."
This is one of many timelines. In most of of them Sarge did go first - he was the oldest. But not all of them had Simmons and Grif pass on before the rest of them. In other timelines Grif didn't die after his fourth heart attack, and a heartbroken Simmons didn't die only several months after.
But even in this one they had lived a long time, at least. They all had lived a shockingly long time given the lives they once led. And someone or another was always destined to pass on before someone else.
"Church does get distracted, because he's always yelling a lot," says Caboose.
"Exactly. We've got to have both bases, right?"
"Right," Caboose agrees. "I guess that makes sense. Because then we can have the bases, and we can run back and forth, and we can yell a lot - I liked all the yelling - and we can play with flags. Just like old times."
"Just like old times," Wash agrees, reaching out a hand to briefly hold onto Caboose's. He finally seems reassured.
"I just wish this didn't have to happen here, in a hospital room that smells like disinfectant and arthritis cream," says Wash bitterly.
"This is bullshit," says an older man that can only be Tucker. There's something about the punchy tone of voice, even elderly. And some of young Tucker can still be seen in his features. "There's no reason you should have to stay here."
"They just want to drag it out," says the woman, Carolina. "Sometimes they lose sight of the fact keeping someone alive as long as possible shouldn't be the goal. There are ways around it but we'll have to fight them a little on it, maybe arrange for at-home hospice. We should've taken care of this sooner -"
"I tanked a little fast for that, Carolina. I should've - I should've planned... I just hoped after that last course of treatment..." He breaks off into a sigh. "By the time we get everything, I'm not sure I'll..."
The group all eyeballs each other over his bed, getting the exact same idea, at the exact same time, a shared braincell of pure chaos.
"Do you still have that portable ox-generator at home?" asks Tucker.
"Yeah, why?" asks Wash.
Donut is already on his feet and hobbling down the hall to make a jaunt towards the teleportation hub. He's one of the most spry after all these years.
"Wait, what's going on, what are you doing?" asks Wash.
"We're springing you from the joint," says Carolina, and Wash smiles.
It takes some doing and is somewhat hilarious to see, a bunch of elderly folks working in heavy cooperation to actually pull off the heist of a person. Despite the fact half of them need canes and Wash is in a hover-wheelchair on a portable oxygen generator, they somehow pull it off, all of them laughing slightly as they hear a nurse enter his room to check on the pulled lead from his vitals monitor, and say, "Hey, wait a minute!"
But they're in the elevator before then.
After getting him secured in their ship, Carolina asks, "Where to?"
"You know where. It should be evening time near...uh, the spot we used to go," says Wash softly.
The where is the hill-side on Iris, the same one he had dying visions of in the Bad End. They bundle him up, so the cool air doesn't bother him, and shove the hover wheelchair where it needs to be, helping him down to lay on blankets and pillows in the grass, having to arrange the same for themselves. It's not an easy effort, when they're all getting a little feeble, when some of them don't have the same mobility that they used to. But they pull it off.
Carolina helps arrange it so Wash is half lying in her lap, bundled, cushioned and comfortable. But Tucker is close too, winding a hand in Wash's, un-self-consciously.
"Love this moon. Best years of my life. But there were some nice ones in a few canyons, though," breathes out Wash weakly, with a warm smile. He draws in a long, quiet breath. "Don't know what else to say. There's so much I - I..."
His eyes water. Carolina's eyes water, too.
"We already know it, Wash. All of it. You said it all, everything we could've ever wanted or needed to hear. Even before Sarge was gone, before Grif and Simmons... We all got to hear it."
He sighs in contentment at that, at not needing to give a last speech on how amazing they are, how much he believes in them, how proud he still is, how much he loves them. At knowing he made it clear enough to the ones they already lost.
"Some...sunset...huh?" he breathes out instead.
"It's beautiful. Always was," says Carolina.
After a little bit of time, Tucker suddenly chuckles, remembering something.
"Wash, you remember that time that Caboose looked straight at it for too long and you had to take him to Dr. Gray to fix his retinas after?" asks Tucker. There is no insult in it, they all did ridiculous things that Wash sometimes had to play clean up over.
"My eyes were filled with ants and sadness!" Caboose offers helpfully.
But Wash doesn't answer.
"...Wash?" says Tucker, and they all look away from the setting sun.
His eyes are closed. His face is peaceful. His mouth is almost curved into the shadow of a smile. His last breaths weren't even ragged gasps or death wheezing, they were a sigh that went unnoticed because it sounded so much like contentment.
Carolina smooths a few stray tufts of gray hair off his forehead as tears stream down her face. She's not the only one crying. The setting sun glitters off those tears like the first stars that start flickering into being in the parts of the sky taken over by deep blue.
They hold him this time, not ready to let him go at first. They sit for a while that way.
no subject
He's on oxygen.
"I think it's almost time," he breathes out, catching her gaze.
"Are you sure, Wash?" asks an older man wearing mostly pink. "You could still try that genetic therapy again, they said it's not too late."
"It's time," Wash repeats firmly. "The treatments don't last long enough. And I still feel like death warmed over when they're done. I hate it."
Donut sits back, his expression sad.
"If you're ready," Carolina sniffles and has trouble getting the rest of the words out, "then you're ready."
"It's okay?" Wash asks, as if it's not entirely his choice, because it's hard to let go of feeling like he needs to be there for them. It's like he needs permission.
"It's not our call," says Carolina. "It's your choice, old man."
She says "old man" like she doesn't look almost as ancient.
She goes on, "But if you need someone to say it...it's okay, David. We'll be okay. You don't have to keep fighting forever. No one can. No one should have to."
With that, she leans over to press a kiss to his forehead, and then one to the knuckles of one hand. The worry lines on his face stop creasing so sharply.
"I know you - I know it's hard to stay, but - but I don't want you to go, Agent Washington," says another man with an almost childlike voice, with deep sadness. "Because you're going to go, aren't you. Like most of Red Team. And Church."
It's still "agent" after all these years, because that's what he was when they met. And it's hard sometimes for Caboose to remember things. Especially now that he's older. Memory fades with age, and his was...never that great to begin.
"Think about it this way, Caboose," says Wash, "Where I'm going, most of Red Team is already there, setting up their base. And you know Church didn't get much done in all these years, so Blue Team's already playing catch-up. I have to help Church."
This is one of many timelines. In most of of them Sarge did go first - he was the oldest. But not all of them had Simmons and Grif pass on before the rest of them. In other timelines Grif didn't die after his fourth heart attack, and a heartbroken Simmons didn't die only several months after.
But even in this one they had lived a long time, at least. They all had lived a shockingly long time given the lives they once led. And someone or another was always destined to pass on before someone else.
"Church does get distracted, because he's always yelling a lot," says Caboose.
"Exactly. We've got to have both bases, right?"
"Right," Caboose agrees. "I guess that makes sense. Because then we can have the bases, and we can run back and forth, and we can yell a lot - I liked all the yelling - and we can play with flags. Just like old times."
"Just like old times," Wash agrees, reaching out a hand to briefly hold onto Caboose's. He finally seems reassured.
"I just wish this didn't have to happen here, in a hospital room that smells like disinfectant and arthritis cream," says Wash bitterly.
"This is bullshit," says an older man that can only be Tucker. There's something about the punchy tone of voice, even elderly. And some of young Tucker can still be seen in his features. "There's no reason you should have to stay here."
"They just want to drag it out," says the woman, Carolina. "Sometimes they lose sight of the fact keeping someone alive as long as possible shouldn't be the goal. There are ways around it but we'll have to fight them a little on it, maybe arrange for at-home hospice. We should've taken care of this sooner -"
"I tanked a little fast for that, Carolina. I should've - I should've planned... I just hoped after that last course of treatment..." He breaks off into a sigh. "By the time we get everything, I'm not sure I'll..."
The group all eyeballs each other over his bed, getting the exact same idea, at the exact same time, a shared braincell of pure chaos.
"Do you still have that portable ox-generator at home?" asks Tucker.
"Yeah, why?" asks Wash.
Donut is already on his feet and hobbling down the hall to make a jaunt towards the teleportation hub. He's one of the most spry after all these years.
"Wait, what's going on, what are you doing?" asks Wash.
"We're springing you from the joint," says Carolina, and Wash smiles.
It takes some doing and is somewhat hilarious to see, a bunch of elderly folks working in heavy cooperation to actually pull off the heist of a person. Despite the fact half of them need canes and Wash is in a hover-wheelchair on a portable oxygen generator, they somehow pull it off, all of them laughing slightly as they hear a nurse enter his room to check on the pulled lead from his vitals monitor, and say, "Hey, wait a minute!"
But they're in the elevator before then.
After getting him secured in their ship, Carolina asks, "Where to?"
"You know where. It should be evening time near...uh, the spot we used to go," says Wash softly.
The where is the hill-side on Iris, the same one he had dying visions of in the Bad End. They bundle him up, so the cool air doesn't bother him, and shove the hover wheelchair where it needs to be, helping him down to lay on blankets and pillows in the grass, having to arrange the same for themselves. It's not an easy effort, when they're all getting a little feeble, when some of them don't have the same mobility that they used to. But they pull it off.
Carolina helps arrange it so Wash is half lying in her lap, bundled, cushioned and comfortable. But Tucker is close too, winding a hand in Wash's, un-self-consciously.
"Love this moon. Best years of my life. But there were some nice ones in a few canyons, though," breathes out Wash weakly, with a warm smile. He draws in a long, quiet breath. "Don't know what else to say. There's so much I - I..."
His eyes water. Carolina's eyes water, too.
"We already know it, Wash. All of it. You said it all, everything we could've ever wanted or needed to hear. Even before Sarge was gone, before Grif and Simmons... We all got to hear it."
He sighs in contentment at that, at not needing to give a last speech on how amazing they are, how much he believes in them, how proud he still is, how much he loves them. At knowing he made it clear enough to the ones they already lost.
"Some...sunset...huh?" he breathes out instead.
"It's beautiful. Always was," says Carolina.
After a little bit of time, Tucker suddenly chuckles, remembering something.
"Wash, you remember that time that Caboose looked straight at it for too long and you had to take him to Dr. Gray to fix his retinas after?" asks Tucker. There is no insult in it, they all did ridiculous things that Wash sometimes had to play clean up over.
"My eyes were filled with ants and sadness!" Caboose offers helpfully.
But Wash doesn't answer.
"...Wash?" says Tucker, and they all look away from the setting sun.
His eyes are closed. His face is peaceful. His mouth is almost curved into the shadow of a smile. His last breaths weren't even ragged gasps or death wheezing, they were a sigh that went unnoticed because it sounded so much like contentment.
Carolina smooths a few stray tufts of gray hair off his forehead as tears stream down her face. She's not the only one crying. The setting sun glitters off those tears like the first stars that start flickering into being in the parts of the sky taken over by deep blue.
They hold him this time, not ready to let him go at first. They sit for a while that way.
The sun sets on Iris.