Life has never been easy for Washington, even in the beginning. The other Freelancers would talk about the past; their families, and how much they miss them or don't miss them, depending on what happened to them. York always had happy memories, Washington remembers; York's mother would wake him up with chocolate pancakes and orange juice, and then he'd go to school with a bright smile on his face. That bliss seemed so nice, but it was out of reach for Washington.
The thought of his own mother, doing that for him? It would have never happened. Washington was an only child, but his family was poor, and hateful. Since day one, Washington's own family shoved him around without a care for the boy; but, oh, they were smart about it.
They knew where to strike him, where to shove him into furniture, and how to hide these markings like they were never there in the first place. It was suspicious to see little Washington running around with sweatshirts or long-sleeved shirt during the summer, but that eventually became "normal" for Washington.
No one ever realized the pain he got forced through, because they just thought he was a strange kid. Everyone called him "Strange David" behind his back, and he tried to act like the name didn't bother him. That the name didn't make him want to rip off the shirt hiding the abuse, and to tell them all the truth. That's all he wanted growing up -- for someone to know, for someone to realize.
Because nothing hurts more than screaming out in pain, and everyone turning a blind eye to it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Oh, yeah, all the time," chuckled North as he laid back against the railing of his bed. "South always got what she wanted, since she was called the 'little' sister, being born two minutes after me." He said, a grin on his face. South shook her head, a giggle escaping her lips.
"Now, that wasn't entirely true. I mean, don't you remember the trip to Valley Fair?" South asked, looking up at her brother. When she said that, North's face lit up. It must be an inside joke between the two.
York invited all of the Freelancers to his room; where they either sat on the ground, lower bunk, or upper bunk; talking about nonsense until they are yelled at by the Director or when Carolina puts an end to the show. It mostly the second one.
Washington heard everyone inside his room and refused to go inside. He didn't want to be interrogated about his past again, so he simple went to the training room. Eventually, though, York will realize that he's not there and will go look for him -- so, Washington has a solid two and a half hours.
'Two hours and a half by myself.' Washington thought as he headed to the training room, the halls mostly empty due to it being later out. 'I would rather take that time to sleep, but who knows when I will be able to do that again...' He trailed off and sighed.
It's not that he didn't want to hang out with York and all of them, it's just that he has hardly said anything about his past, so that's all they're going to ask him.
"Did you have any siblings?" "Not saying." "What about aunts... uncles?" "Does it matter?" "Are your parents still around?" "God, I hope not." "I wouldn't know, being stuck here."
Washington doesn't want to have another conservation like that, and Carolina is the worst about it. She just pries and pries until you either give in or snap at her -- either way, the situation wouldn't end well for Washington. No one can tell when someone clearly doesn't want to talk about something, and if they can, they don't respect Washington's privacy.
A quick nip of his tongue snapped Washington out of his thoughts. 'I'm in the training room right now. Forget about that, for now.' He ordered himself, as F.I.L.S.S. started to talk to him.
"Agent Washington, it is certainly a surprise to see you here." F.I.L.S.S. told him with a sense of joy in her voice. "But, wouldn't you rather be with the other Freelancers? Agent York came in here a few hours ago, and told me to contact him if anyone came here." Washington couldn't describe the annoyance he felt right now, but it was eating at him.
"Don't do that, F.I.L.S.S, I have my own reasons for being here." Washington told her. He didn't want to be rude to her, but he just wasn't in the mood to be interrogated or questioned by anyone.
F.I.L.S.S. responded quickly with confusion. "Agent Washington, is there a reason why you don't want to hang out with Agent York and the other Freelancers? There are records of you skipping out on every event Agent York plans, and you only come back when they are done with." Washington wasn't surprised that there was records of it, there must be records of anything.
Still, Washington would let those records stack up if he had to. The only one with complete access to them is the Director, and even the Director doesn't know about his past. Washington can be satisfied with that fact.
"F.I.L.S.S., how large are those files?" Washington asked curiously, now standing in the middle of the training room. The robot responded quickly after scanning over each file, getting the correct size base.
"Four point six gigabytes, Agent Washington. This is excluding the times you skipped out on the events because of sickness or missions, but including those -- it rises to six point seven gigabytes." F.I.L.S.S. told him, reviewing the files over again. "It is apparent that you get the cold a lot. Is your room below the standard temperature, Agent Washington?"
A small chuckle left his mouth as he shook his head. Suddenly, the negative thoughts that were plaguing him were fading away and he felt as if he could have a decent night's rest for a change.
"No, F.I.L.S.S., I promise my room's temperature is up to standards. No worries there."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
But poor Washington was terrible wrong. After a few practice sessions in the training room, he headed back to his room at a late hour, believing the event would be over, but he was wrong. York was still talking to everyone about his "golden" birthday, and how his mom drove him eight hours from where they lived to go to a water park.
"... my mom was truly the best," sighed happily York after his story, before he noticed Washington in the doorway. He looked out of place, wearing his full suit of armor while everyone else was in casual clothing. "Hey, Wash. Nice of you to finally join us." 'It doesn't really feel nice.' Washington thought to himself, glancing at the arm York had around Carolina and the nearly asleep South, who was laying against North's back.
Everyone wouldn't stop staring at him. 'What happened to my relaxing night?' Washington asked himself, knowing that the stares would only get worse if he didn't say anything.
"Uh, yeah." He managed to get out, his voice slightly shaky from the unwarranted attention. "... is this going to end soon? I, uh, really need to get to bed and my bed is kind of taken." Washington said with a quiet sigh, Wyoming and C.T. were lounging on the upper bunk, taking up all of the space.
York glanced at Washington with a small frown. Normally, he'd just accept this as normal attitude from Washington, but this is happening way to much for it to be normal. "Wash, dude..." He said quietly, slowly moving his arm away from Carolina and standing up in front of Washington. "Excuse us, please." York said kindly at the group of Freelancers, a few of them were asleep.
Washington protested to being pulled out of the room, because it was extremely awkward. He felt everyone's eyes on him as he got pulled out by York. 'I should've just sucked up and came here earlier, everyone must be growing suspicious of me.' He thought to himself as York shut the door behind them and crossed his arms, standing in front of Washington.
"York, please. I don't want to -- "
"I don't what's going on with you, Washington, and honestly? It's not really any of my business, but this is getting worse. Where have you been?" He asked with concern, his arms crossed in front of his chest, staring into Washington's visor. "And, Jesus Christ, dude, take off your helmet. No one else is wearing armor right now, but you. It's unsettling, man."
Washington unwillingly took off his helmet, the air felt good against his face. His blue eyes finally met York's, and suddenly the wave of concern and slight anger washed over him. The eyes really are the gateway to the soul, it was bothering. Suddenly, Washington wanted his helmet back on and he wanted to be in the darkest, smallest corner he could find, but York wasn't going to let him run off without an explanation. 'This... is going to suck.'
"I get wanting to be alone, Wash, I get that, but you do it all of the time! You are purposely avoiding us when everyone is talking about their past. Jesus, man, you avoid it like it's the plague. I am trying my best to let you do your thing, but this shit has gone on for -- what? Weeks? Months? Hell, maybe even years!" York exclaimed a little louder than Washington would've preferred, everyone inside of their room could probably hear them. That would only make this conservation more difficult.
'Maybe if I just let him talk, we won't have to have this conservation evolve to anything worse.' Washington pondered, trying to keep a steady face.
"... what? Nothing to say, Washington? Cat's got your tongue?" York asked, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed. 'Dammit, now I really have to talk.' Washington sighed to himself, adverting his gaze to the ground. It felt like York was staring into his soul, like all of his secrets were bleeding out in front of his bunkmate.
"We can have this conservation, York, but please... does it have to be here? I don't want anyone else to hear. This is... kind of private." Washington slightly begged, the awareness of everyone listening was digging into him, causing his heart to race.
York considered the suggestion, and when he sighed, Wash knew that York was going to unwillingly agree. But before York could say "yes," and head to somewhere else that was more secretive, North opened the door with an asleep South on his back. 'Oh no.'
"You guys can, uh, have your talk in your room. The rest of us are going to head back to our rooms and sleep." North said in a slightly hushed voice, obviously trying to make sure South stayed asleep. The pit in Washington's stomach deepened greatly. He was the party crasher, it seemed.
"Alright, man. Goodnight." York said with a disappointed sigh, his eyes turning to glare at Washington.
When North walked out, Maine walked out with C.T., Carolina, and Wyoming on him and in his arms, all asleep. Their room was finally emptied, leaving only crumbs and empty bags of food and drinks that Washington can only assume where consumed when he was absent.
York was giving Washington the cold shoulder when they entered their room, and the entire mood was dropping faster and faster. 'This is going to be terrible. I shouldn't have came back, I should've just let them have their fun while I sleep in the... the... training room...?'
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When Washington changed out of his armor and normal clothing, York decided that was time for their 'talk'. His posture was too serious and stiff to allow the mood to lighten. Washington was having serious second decisions, but this was inevitable. There was no point in avoiding the inevitable.
"Talk. Now."
'Jeez.' "Well, what do you want me to say? Where should I start?"
"Perhaps you could start on why you don't ever talk about your past. I -- all of the Freelancers -- know nothing about your childhood or, shit, you're first girlfriend, or something. It's really stupid and basic shit, but that's what friends talk about." York said in a serious tone, Washington could feel the iciness in his breath.
Suddenly, it was harder to breathe. His chest felt like it was tightening, even though he was no longer wearing his arm. A weak, tired sigh left Washington's lips before he spoke up. York was waiting impatiently.
"... okay, well, I have a semi-good reason for not talking about it..."
York raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Prompting Washington to continue.
"I just -- I guess I don't really feel comfortable talking about the past to anyone. Friend or not, it's just something I don't want to talk about it. It's a lot of shitty memories that no one should be burdened with knowing." Washington explained, but was compelled to continue. If he was going to say it, he was going to say it all. "I had no good parental figures growing up, both were complete jerks who saw me as a mere burden on their wealth than their son. My mother would scream at me endlessly, until my ears hurt. My father... well, he was much worse, but then again, isn't that a debate?" He finished with a dry chuckle.
"My father would tell me he hated me, that I was a mistake and that I should've been aborted, but instead of using his words to say this... well, he used his hands. When I was curled up in a fetal position, covering my ears so I could drown out the yelling, my father would pull me out of it. He would degrade me, he said I wasn't a man, that I -- that I wouldn't amount to anything if all I did was hide." The memories flashed past Washington's eyes, they were burned into the back of his head until the end of time. "And when I would finally break, when I started to cry because I couldn't hide my feelings any longer, he would... do such terrible things to me..."
Silence filled the room. York didn't know what the say, if there was anything you could say to that. Wash stared down at the bleak bed sheets with heavy eyes, exhaustion washing over him.
"... but it was never the face."
"What do you mean by that?" York asked quietly with confusion.
"He would never strike me in my face. He was abusive, but he was smart about being abusive. My bruises, my cuts -- my scars -- were all hidden by clothing. No one suspected a thing about me or my parents. On the outside, we seemed perfect. Flawless by creation. Like... like we could do anything and succeed!" Washington said with raw emotion, finally looking up at York. It felt fantastic to finally get this off of his chest. To finally tell someone about this.
"I was considered just some freak that loved sweaters, even if it was ninety degrees outside. 'Strange David', that's what my nickname was." Washington said, using his fingers are quotation marks. "It was insulting that no one could figure out the conflict that was happening behind close doors, but then again...? I'm honestly not surprised. No one realizes how shitty my life was. No one has, and no one will. Besides you, of course."
York's mouth contorted, trying to find the right thing to say to comfort his friend, but nothing came to mind. He has never witnessed or suffered through abuse, he couldn't relate to what Washington has been through. Washington watched his friend struggled with tired, yet vibrant eyes. They had a new emotion in them, something York hasn't seen before: relief.
"... but, honestly? I don't know. Maybe it's better this way -- 'Strange David'... if anyone found out, I wouldn't have been treated the same way. I would've been treated like I was some kicked puppy, and I really didn't want that. So, it's better that this is a secret." Washington told his friend, before falling backwards onto his bed. He stared up at the dark ceiling, the light in their room shut off.
"Hey, man..." York sighed. "That's, um, really fucking shitty, and I'm sorry." He said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Yeah, I know."
"Are you... are you going to tell the others this?"
Washington sat up immediately, sitting up on his elbows. "What? Are you insane? Why would I tell anyone else this unless I had to?" He asked, giving York a confused, and slightly outrage expression.
"Well, because they're your friends and honestly, if this happened to me, I'd -- "
"It didn't happen to you, and it probably never will. And my friends seem to enjoy treating me badly already, I am not giving them another reason to. I can imagine it already: 'Washington is the worst, I mean, it's too be expected -- look at his childhood!' Yeah, I don't need that shit in my life. Not when I already have so much shit going on." Washington spit this out so quickly, he even surprised himself. This was a lot for him to say, even to York.
"Well, fine. It is your choice, it was just a suggestion." York said, defeated. "If only we had a goddamn therapist on this ship. I'd make you talk to them." York said, looking off to the side. Washington couldn't tell if that was a joke, but he was tired of the serious mood and let out a small laugh.
"If we had a therapist, that poor thing would be overworked. I'm, uh, one hundred percent sure of all us have problems."
York was taken back by the joke, but accepted it greatly. Returning it with his own laugh and slight smile. "Yeah, that's true."
'Well, that talk wasn't too bad. And I did get to talk about my issues with someone I trust.' Washington thought to himself, his heart relaxing and his nervousness burning away. The mood felt much better than earlier, and he would be able to sleep properly.
York went to leave the top bunk -- where they were talking -- to head to his bed, but before he did, he looked at Washington with concern.
"I don't want to be a drag, but next time something that big is bothering you, just, uh... talk to me, okay, pal?"
Washington's face lit up with a soft smile at his friend.
"Alright, friend. I'll be sure to do that."