Gone
Summary: Wash/Epsilon. *sniffles*
Wash had a whisper of a smile on his lips, a wonderfully floaty feeling in his head, and a warm, sleeping body cuddled against his chest.
This hadn't been where it started. No, where it had started was with Epsilon's mental presence curled into the corner of his mind, crying and trying not to but unable to stop himself. He was hugging his knees tight to his chest, his face buried in the ring of his arms.
Wash was crouched a few feet away, waiting. Epsilon tended to bolt if he got too close, and yet he knew the AI was desperate for something other than his memories of pain and horror. They were in the same mind, after all.
Sometimes he'd just rage around, screaming profanities and throwing whatever he could get his hands on. Other times he'd twiddle his thumbs and hum out old songs as he kicked around doing nothing at all. But then at times like these, he'd just cry, and this is when Wash felt the worst for his AI.
He edged himself a little closer, and Ep tensed but didn't move yet. "Epsilon?" Wash called softly, and the AI flinched. "I'm not going to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you anymore, not here."
Epsilon raised his head at last, but did not look the least bit convinced, and yet there was something about his Assignee's voice that made him really, desperately want to believe him.
Wash held his hands out slowly as if to prove they were empty of any possible weapon. "I just want to help you."
Ep sniffed back some tears and wiped at his cheeks, though they were soon wet again.
Wash had managed to edge up almost within reach of his AI and now sat quietly, waiting for Epsilon to realize he was no threat. It took a while, but Wash felt it was worth the effort. He cared about Ep, he really did. And even if he hadn't, having a distraught, panic-ridden AI in mind was enough reason to at least make an attempt.
When Epsilon's tears had faded, Wash slowly reached out, resting his hand just on the edge of his shoulder. Epsilon jumped, but did not pull away, not this time.
"It's okay," Wash breathed. "I won't hurt you, Ep. I would never hurt you." When he was convinced that Epsilon wasn't going to run this time, he slid his arm a little further around him, running his hand over Ep's head gently as fresh tears began to flow.
"Wash?" he asked; tentative, afraid, but also craving a touch that did not bring pain.
"Yes, Ep?"
Two blue-grey eyes gazed up at him, full of fear and hope. "Hold me," he pleaded softly.
Wash eased him against his chest until he was holding him tight, Epsilon clinging to him in return. "I'll never let you go," he promised.
"Wash? Why... why did they do this to me?"
He frowned, his eyes dropping away. "I don't know." He held him tighter and they both fell silent.
Yes, that is where it had all started. With that first moment of Epsilon letting him in. He had held him for hours, just held him as he curled into his chest and cried. Neither knew who had fallen asleep first. All Epsilon knew was waking up in his arms and never having felt so safe or warm in his life. Well, Epsilon's life was the embodiment of torture, so for him, anything was an improvement, but he felt truly safe at last. Wash had become the first person to show him kindness, to be gentle and soft.
And that's how it had gone. When he had spent his rage and lost his reason and run out of lies to tell himself, when the grief came, that's when he would find his way into Washington's arms and lose himself.
Now Washington had his arms wrapped around him as Epsilon screamed, gripping his head as another bout of terror ripped through him. The only thing Wash had found that could calm him during these episodes was to just hold him and let him hear his voice. It didn't matter what he said, only that Epsilon could hear him.
He had been running out of things to say when a song had come to his mind. He began to sing. Softly at first, then a little more certain as the words and the tune were drug up from old memories of childhood. It was not exactly a lullaby, but it had a similar sound to it. And a similar effect. Epsilon quieted, his body still shaking but his screams and tears fading to little sobs and soon quieting entirely. Wash was rocking back and forth, lulling his AI, helped along as he ran one hand up and down his back.
Epsilon was always exhausted afterward these episodes, and so Wash picked him up, always a little surprised but just how little he seemed to weigh, and carried him to the bed. Epsilon didn't want to let go, though, and truthfully neither did Wash. They curled up around one another, shifting until they were both comfortable and Epsilon was laying over him, his head resting on his chest and listening to the steady rhythms of his heart.
Wash's hands continued to caress his back, relaxing him further as the pain was tucked away again. Epsilon's fingers found their way to Wash's cheek, echoing his gentle touch.
Time passed. Wash had coaxed Ep's shirt off and now continued to run his hands down the length of his back. Epsilon had edged himself up a little so he was resting his head against Washington's shoulder, though more importantly, their hips were now aligned.
Each time Wash's hands would reach Ep's lower back, he'd sink a bit further into him. With each caress, he felt a little spark, a little bit more growing between them. They could both feel the other. It had been such a gradual thing, one moment Wash was soothing him, and the next, their hearts were just a bit faster, their breathing a bit deeper, and their pants a bit tighter.
Wash finally brought his hands to Ep's hips. "Lift up a moment," he murmured, and Ep complied without question. A moment later and Wash was relieving them both of their pants, pulling Epsilon back down against his chest as they now lay fully bare.
Wash continued to caress his back, Epsilon continued to hug himself close to his chest, and both felt the small tremors of the other's body as they lay against one another. It was so slow, neither trying to prevent the natural reactions of their bodies but also truly not seeking it to be anything but what it was. A tender affection that had turned into the most erotic experience they could imagine, without ever leaving the realm of comfort or deep friendship.
Epsilon squeezed his eyes shut as his fingers curled into Wash's shoulders. Wash felt him tense, his hips pressing down automatically. With a shudder and a groan, he released; the warm, sticky liquid oozing beween their stomachs. Wash was right there with him, biting back a little whimper as his own release mingled with Ep's.
And that was all. Ep let out a long exhale and was asleep in minutes. Wash smiled and closed his eyes. This was the epitome of becoming one with his AI. Their minds touched, open to one another, just as their bodies were.
Time passed. Epsilon still suffered from the horrors of his memories, and he still made his way into Washington's arms. Wash would always bring him through it; letting him hear the sound of his voice, singing softly to him, or calming him with his gentle touch.
Always it was the simple intimacy that they craved. The touch without fear or pain. There was no real desire for release, or to make it into anything it wasn't. It was the depth of their connection, the true affection and desire to simply be near each other that was the foundation of their relationship.
It was this that made it so much harder on Wash when the days came when he could no longer ease Epsilon through his madness. He could no longer draw him back from the edge.
One by one, Epsilon's memories took ghostly forms, shallow echoes of the other AI that haunted Wash's mind. Ep would sometimes talk to them, try to touch them, only to be frustrated that they were not really there. He was losing control of himself, unraveling, casting mental shadows that finally drove him mad.
Even as they were removing him, Wash clung to his AI, holding him tight and repeating over and over how sorry he was that he couldn't help him this time. That he couldn't save him. And when he was gone, it was Wash who was curled into the corner of his own mind, crying. The emptiness that had been left inside was greater than anything he had ever thought he could feel.
Wash had a whisper of a smile on his lips, a wonderfully floaty feeling in his head, and a warm, sleeping body cuddled against his chest.
This hadn't been where it started. No, where it had started was with Epsilon's mental presence curled into the corner of his mind, crying and trying not to but unable to stop himself. He was hugging his knees tight to his chest, his face buried in the ring of his arms.
Wash was crouched a few feet away, waiting. Epsilon tended to bolt if he got too close, and yet he knew the AI was desperate for something other than his memories of pain and horror. They were in the same mind, after all.
Sometimes he'd just rage around, screaming profanities and throwing whatever he could get his hands on. Other times he'd twiddle his thumbs and hum out old songs as he kicked around doing nothing at all. But then at times like these, he'd just cry, and this is when Wash felt the worst for his AI.
He edged himself a little closer, and Ep tensed but didn't move yet. "Epsilon?" Wash called softly, and the AI flinched. "I'm not going to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you anymore, not here."
Epsilon raised his head at last, but did not look the least bit convinced, and yet there was something about his Assignee's voice that made him really, desperately want to believe him.
Wash held his hands out slowly as if to prove they were empty of any possible weapon. "I just want to help you."
Ep sniffed back some tears and wiped at his cheeks, though they were soon wet again.
Wash had managed to edge up almost within reach of his AI and now sat quietly, waiting for Epsilon to realize he was no threat. It took a while, but Wash felt it was worth the effort. He cared about Ep, he really did. And even if he hadn't, having a distraught, panic-ridden AI in mind was enough reason to at least make an attempt.
When Epsilon's tears had faded, Wash slowly reached out, resting his hand just on the edge of his shoulder. Epsilon jumped, but did not pull away, not this time.
"It's okay," Wash breathed. "I won't hurt you, Ep. I would never hurt you." When he was convinced that Epsilon wasn't going to run this time, he slid his arm a little further around him, running his hand over Ep's head gently as fresh tears began to flow.
"Wash?" he asked; tentative, afraid, but also craving a touch that did not bring pain.
"Yes, Ep?"
Two blue-grey eyes gazed up at him, full of fear and hope. "Hold me," he pleaded softly.
Wash eased him against his chest until he was holding him tight, Epsilon clinging to him in return. "I'll never let you go," he promised.
"Wash? Why... why did they do this to me?"
He frowned, his eyes dropping away. "I don't know." He held him tighter and they both fell silent.
Yes, that is where it had all started. With that first moment of Epsilon letting him in. He had held him for hours, just held him as he curled into his chest and cried. Neither knew who had fallen asleep first. All Epsilon knew was waking up in his arms and never having felt so safe or warm in his life. Well, Epsilon's life was the embodiment of torture, so for him, anything was an improvement, but he felt truly safe at last. Wash had become the first person to show him kindness, to be gentle and soft.
And that's how it had gone. When he had spent his rage and lost his reason and run out of lies to tell himself, when the grief came, that's when he would find his way into Washington's arms and lose himself.
Now Washington had his arms wrapped around him as Epsilon screamed, gripping his head as another bout of terror ripped through him. The only thing Wash had found that could calm him during these episodes was to just hold him and let him hear his voice. It didn't matter what he said, only that Epsilon could hear him.
He had been running out of things to say when a song had come to his mind. He began to sing. Softly at first, then a little more certain as the words and the tune were drug up from old memories of childhood. It was not exactly a lullaby, but it had a similar sound to it. And a similar effect. Epsilon quieted, his body still shaking but his screams and tears fading to little sobs and soon quieting entirely. Wash was rocking back and forth, lulling his AI, helped along as he ran one hand up and down his back.
Epsilon was always exhausted afterward these episodes, and so Wash picked him up, always a little surprised but just how little he seemed to weigh, and carried him to the bed. Epsilon didn't want to let go, though, and truthfully neither did Wash. They curled up around one another, shifting until they were both comfortable and Epsilon was laying over him, his head resting on his chest and listening to the steady rhythms of his heart.
Wash's hands continued to caress his back, relaxing him further as the pain was tucked away again. Epsilon's fingers found their way to Wash's cheek, echoing his gentle touch.
Time passed. Wash had coaxed Ep's shirt off and now continued to run his hands down the length of his back. Epsilon had edged himself up a little so he was resting his head against Washington's shoulder, though more importantly, their hips were now aligned.
Each time Wash's hands would reach Ep's lower back, he'd sink a bit further into him. With each caress, he felt a little spark, a little bit more growing between them. They could both feel the other. It had been such a gradual thing, one moment Wash was soothing him, and the next, their hearts were just a bit faster, their breathing a bit deeper, and their pants a bit tighter.
Wash finally brought his hands to Ep's hips. "Lift up a moment," he murmured, and Ep complied without question. A moment later and Wash was relieving them both of their pants, pulling Epsilon back down against his chest as they now lay fully bare.
Wash continued to caress his back, Epsilon continued to hug himself close to his chest, and both felt the small tremors of the other's body as they lay against one another. It was so slow, neither trying to prevent the natural reactions of their bodies but also truly not seeking it to be anything but what it was. A tender affection that had turned into the most erotic experience they could imagine, without ever leaving the realm of comfort or deep friendship.
Epsilon squeezed his eyes shut as his fingers curled into Wash's shoulders. Wash felt him tense, his hips pressing down automatically. With a shudder and a groan, he released; the warm, sticky liquid oozing beween their stomachs. Wash was right there with him, biting back a little whimper as his own release mingled with Ep's.
And that was all. Ep let out a long exhale and was asleep in minutes. Wash smiled and closed his eyes. This was the epitome of becoming one with his AI. Their minds touched, open to one another, just as their bodies were.
Time passed. Epsilon still suffered from the horrors of his memories, and he still made his way into Washington's arms. Wash would always bring him through it; letting him hear the sound of his voice, singing softly to him, or calming him with his gentle touch.
Always it was the simple intimacy that they craved. The touch without fear or pain. There was no real desire for release, or to make it into anything it wasn't. It was the depth of their connection, the true affection and desire to simply be near each other that was the foundation of their relationship.
It was this that made it so much harder on Wash when the days came when he could no longer ease Epsilon through his madness. He could no longer draw him back from the edge.
One by one, Epsilon's memories took ghostly forms, shallow echoes of the other AI that haunted Wash's mind. Ep would sometimes talk to them, try to touch them, only to be frustrated that they were not really there. He was losing control of himself, unraveling, casting mental shadows that finally drove him mad.
Even as they were removing him, Wash clung to his AI, holding him tight and repeating over and over how sorry he was that he couldn't help him this time. That he couldn't save him. And when he was gone, it was Wash who was curled into the corner of his own mind, crying. The emptiness that had been left inside was greater than anything he had ever thought he could feel.