(no subject)
Wash is sure this is how he's going to die.
The Meta ( maine ) is staring at him, inches away from his helmet, and Wash is squinting into the orange of it's ( his ) visor like he can see through it.
( But he can't, really, and he doesn't know what he'd even see, if he'd see a monster or a human or nothing at all, just an empty shell of what they've done to him, what they've done to them all. )
It's a bit like being face to face with a wild animal, Wash thinks to himself. It's dangerous and unpredictable and you can't back down, you can't back down, you have to stand your ground and you can't be weak or the chain snaps and you're mauled, you're paralyzed, you're dead. Wash coughs because it's getting hard to breathe, and the ( person ) thing responds by digging ( his ) it's fingers even deeper into his chest plate, driving the sharp points of his knuckles further into his skin, pressing him harder against the wall.
He doesn't know why he isn't dead. It's that animal thing, again, and they were all predators in a way, all of them, trained to seek and kill, but what the Meta is ( what maine has become ) is different, pure instinct and coiled up tension with no real human mind to guide it all, and Wash can feel it's ( his ) eyes on him, sizing him up, trying to decide whether or not he was even worth the time or effort to kill -- at the very least, that's what it feels like.
It makes him want to laugh, a little ( almost as much as it makes him sick ) because, god.
"How far have we fallen?"
The Meta ( MAINE ) tenses and pushes him even harder against the wall, and Wash chokes on the words before they're even completely out of his throat, hanging in the dead air between them. The space between them is even smaller, now, a bare few inches, and Wash can feel all of it's ( HIS ) weight pressed tight against his chest, crushing him, crushing his lungs, and his hands scrabble kind of pathetically along the armor of it's ( HIS ) arms, it's ( HIS ) shoulders, his breath going from a little uneven to crushingly desperate within a matter of seconds -- Wash swears that if not for their fucking helmets, he'd be able to feel the Meta's ( MAINE'S ) breath against his neck, wonders if they've ruined that too.
Maybe it ( HE ) doesn't breathe anymore.
( i know his name his name is maine his name is MAINE they can't have ruined us all they can't have ruined us all he's human he's there, isaac -- )
"Hey," Wash kind of chokes it out and it's barely a word, anyway, but Maine seems to understand, like a fucking animal, right tilting his head slightly to side as if he's listening, trying to figure out the sounds, it's fucking hard to breathe but Maine doesn't seem to be throttling him any more, and Wash takes that as a sign to keep talking.
"Somewhere," oh god oh god breathe, "Somewhere in there."
Maine's grip relaxes just the tiniest bit, and Wash nearly gags on the rush of too-welcome air into his lungs, his fingers curling tighter into Maine's armor in response -- there's something in it, though, something in his silence, you have my attention, don't fucking waste it or I'll snap your sorry little neck, and Wash takes a short, sharp breath.
( they can't have ruined us all. )
"Do you remember -- "
lMFAO YOU KNOW I MEANT THAT AS A SHORT PROLOGUE THING AND IT EXPLODED this gives you a good idea of how long everything is 8( i've had to split it into three. parts. parts. like chapters and shit. i really hope i can finish this...