Lavernius Tucker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lovernotafighter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thelegion2017-05-24 10:26 pm
lovernotafighter) wrote in thelegion2017-05-24 10:26 pm
Video
[This day had to come eventually, didn't it? Just another one of those damn Blood Gulch Sim Troops arriving here to crash the party, and predictability a little late like always. But hey, it wasn't like he hadn't been busy saving a planet or being blissfully retired or anything equally as important. Nope.
The video shifted a little as Tucker tried to set it upright, but it soon found itself quickly propped at an angle that said this wasn't his first time recording himself; the purpose of such skills would be left up to the viewer to guess at their own discretion. But hey, have Tucker with that beautiful aqua colored armor looking right back at you, even as he sat back down and tried to appear relaxed, cool, okay with ...well, all this. All this.
Ladies in hot tight superhero outfits definitely helped.]
So, yeah, Tucker here. [It felt like an interview with Dylan. Good thing talking about himself was one of his favorite things to do.] Please try to contain your applause, but ladies, feel free to toss your bras in my general direction.
[No shame, this one.]
You know, I was kind of busy back home. [With Church shit. It was always Church shit, and there wasn't a single damn regret for it; in a way, he hoped it kept being Church shit because that meant that bastard was still around. Tucker wanted to be back there, needed to be back there because--] Those idiots - my idiots - have no one to lead them now unless you count Sarge and no one counts Sarge. Shit, I don't even think the Reds count Sarge. Okay, so maybe Simmons does, but whatever.
[He sighed, rubbing his hand over his helmet before he just waved his hand.] But cool, superpowers, am I right? I mean, if I was getting chicks before, I'm getting triple chicks now.
[Let the record show that he was not, in fact, getting ladies before, and that the triple of "zero" is still "zero".]
Look, I just want to get this shit done and over with so I can get back to being a badass back home and get my shit done. So, you know, I'll do what I have to, I guess.
[There's a sigh, that burden of few choices and responsibility - ew - before he cocked is head up.]
Hey, important final question: where do all the hotties hang out around here? There's the title of wingman up for grabs if you tell me.
[At least the video ends there, and everyone was probably better for it.]
The video shifted a little as Tucker tried to set it upright, but it soon found itself quickly propped at an angle that said this wasn't his first time recording himself; the purpose of such skills would be left up to the viewer to guess at their own discretion. But hey, have Tucker with that beautiful aqua colored armor looking right back at you, even as he sat back down and tried to appear relaxed, cool, okay with ...well, all this. All this.
Ladies in hot tight superhero outfits definitely helped.]
So, yeah, Tucker here. [It felt like an interview with Dylan. Good thing talking about himself was one of his favorite things to do.] Please try to contain your applause, but ladies, feel free to toss your bras in my general direction.
[No shame, this one.]
You know, I was kind of busy back home. [With Church shit. It was always Church shit, and there wasn't a single damn regret for it; in a way, he hoped it kept being Church shit because that meant that bastard was still around. Tucker wanted to be back there, needed to be back there because--] Those idiots - my idiots - have no one to lead them now unless you count Sarge and no one counts Sarge. Shit, I don't even think the Reds count Sarge. Okay, so maybe Simmons does, but whatever.
[He sighed, rubbing his hand over his helmet before he just waved his hand.] But cool, superpowers, am I right? I mean, if I was getting chicks before, I'm getting triple chicks now.
[Let the record show that he was not, in fact, getting ladies before, and that the triple of "zero" is still "zero".]
Look, I just want to get this shit done and over with so I can get back to being a badass back home and get my shit done. So, you know, I'll do what I have to, I guess.
[There's a sigh, that burden of few choices and responsibility - ew - before he cocked is head up.]
Hey, important final question: where do all the hotties hang out around here? There's the title of wingman up for grabs if you tell me.
[At least the video ends there, and everyone was probably better for it.]
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Here's a thought: maybe you should trust the word of someone who's been here for months and knows what certain people are like instead of letting your dick get you into trouble.
[Please do not fuck the international terrorist with strong ties to Reaper. Do not do this to him.]
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Damn teammates.]
...you make my life super boring, you know that?
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[Maui.jpg]
[He really should keep his mouth shut for the purposes of decency, but he's learned a long time ago that he can't close a door in front of his team without opening a window; otherwise they'll break the whole goddamn wall down.]
Look, you're a Legionnaire, which means you're on the fast track to being a celebrity. Give it a month, and people will be lining up to hook up with you.
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[She wasn't even going to kill him... despite his offer to do just that. Repeatedly.]
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[Clearly someone needs to get laid. Widowmaker is not volunteering.]
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As if I would bother. Vouz avez plein de merde.
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[Honestly, why does he even try.]
Hey, pot, kettle called.
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[ Guess who nobody wanted in this conversation? He's here! ]
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[Whoops. That came out before he could stop himself. Really, Grif, you have no idea.]
I just meant him sticking around Tex when she was pretty much a deadly bitch.
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[ Grif so believes you. He is so sure. Except, you know the polar opposite of those two things. ]
Private to Tucker
You know damn well why Church stuck with Tex as long as he did. This is nothing like that.
If any of my intel is correct, Widowmaker is an assassin with a well-known terrorist group on her world. She runs with Reaper, who is actually incredibly dangerous in spite of being a shitty Ghostface knockoff. I don't trust her not to string you up, use you as leverage, and kill you slowly.
[And then, because he's pretty sure that info in and of itself won't stop Tucker, he goes for a different and far more open tack.]
Look, I just found out you survived Chorus, okay? Don't...do this.
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Tucker did know, though, so he nodded a little and looked away. That...that was a whole other can of worms, things he didn't want to talk about even if he was the one that brought it up. Church - Epsilon, all that and what they had been through--
It was way more fun to talk about Widowmaker.]
Pretty sure Locus wasn't all that different at one point, with the whole planetary genocide thing. [There were still some things that he was bitter over, homework or not. Yet he sighed and rubbed his hands down his face and Wash.
Wash. You're making him actually pay attention.]
You're really that worried?
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[And then Tucker asks him that. The problem with tipping his emotional hand is that it's hard to keep it from overflowing, and this is something he hasn't talked to anyone about in depth - not Chief, not Dr. Ryk'rr, nobody - and this is Tucker, and he trusts Tucker, and he's safe to talk to, and-]
[And he explodes.]
Yes! Tucker, I've been here for months knowing that I was going into battle the second I got home and I can't do anything about it here! All I can do is hope everyone pulls through it and that I don't show up too late! I spent my last year in Freelancer collecting the dead bodies of my friends, because that's what Recovery was for - I don't want to do that again!
[He takes a breath, lets it out, takes another. Back in control. Come on. Just because he can talk with Tucker doesn't mean he can dump everything on him. He needs to be steady. He needs to be better than this. Breathe. Just fucking breathe.]
...I need to know.
[Tell him if they live, Tucker. Give him something steady to stand on and he can shore himself up again. He'll be fine. Just. Tell him.]
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He wasn't expecting that.
And shit, he couldn't blame Wash, not at all, because he knew if the situation was reversed, he'd be screaming and losing his shit, too. Hell, he was barely keeping it together now because he was supposed to be getting Church, not just any Church either, but Alpha, that sonofabitch who died for what felt like no fucking reason. Who didn't say goodbye. Who didn't even bother to leave him a fucking message or seek him out.
Who he missed like crazy.
So yeah, Wash, he got it. He felt for you, especially about your past, with the things you had done and the people who you had collected, and Tucker sure as shit wouldn't make you get his body, even if he meant he wasn't getting laid. But--but it wasn't about him. He was alive; he made it out, they both could see it.
It was about the rest of them.
Tucker opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He wanted to tell you, Wash. He wanted to tell you everything, wanted to tell you that Caboose was still getting into trouble that seemed completely illogical and impossible. He wanted to tell you that Grif was teaching Carolina about being lazy and Simmons was doing nerd shit and Sarge was waging a dumb war while Donut became an accidental arsonist. He wanted to tell you that it was the lack of Church's bitching that seemed oppressive, the only hole they couldn't fill, the only thing that kept it from feeling like Blood Gulch.]
Grif said -- [He sighed, rubbed his hand against his leg and started again. This wasn't going to go well; he could feel it in the air.] Grif said you won't tell him about any of the shit that happened because you're worried it's going to mess up the future.
[He couldn't lose Caboose. He couldn't lose Wash or Carolina even the Reds. He couldn't. And if it meant his friend being upset, well, he'd take that rage over him possibly dying any day.]
Pretty sure the rules you made should apply to you, too.
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[It's the latter.]
[Tucker isn't going to tell him.]
[He's driven himself half-mad for months on end with worry he can't assuage and quiet mounting fear that he can only distract himself from for so long and it's eaten away at him like acid at the back of his throat and now the answers are here and Tucker won't fucking tell him-]
[And he can't blame him. He can't. He'd set down those rules himself, months ago. The logic is sound.]
[But his own particular brand of madness has never cared much for logic, and Wash isn't above hypocrisy when it benefits him. Plus, he's desperate.]
[He tends to make shitty decisions when he's desperate.]
But that's Grif. [His voice is still quiet, but much steadier, as though he hadn't just had a minor breakdown. Years of lying, brought to bear.] Those rules don't apply here.
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[God, being responsible sucked. Being a leader sucked, even if he was good at it. Having to make these stupid choices and not being able to tell one of his best friends the truth, be able to keep him from freaking out, all of it fucking sucked.
How did a talk about getting laid by hot assassin chicks turn into this? Into him feeling like the bad guy? It wasn't supposed to be this way, dammit. It wasn't supposed to be anything like this.]
Okay, but hear me out: Let's say I was the one that came back right before I got stabbed: would you tell me? Let's say shit was reversed and I came back during the battle and you hit here ten months after: would you tell me who made it back or would you carry that shit to your grave because you knew it could mess things up? That telling me could Marty McFly this shit right to the sun and erase someone or something?
[He thought he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear you say it.]
I want to tell you, Wash. You don't have any idea how badly I want to tell you what we've been through, but... you made that rule for a reason, and I trust you.
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I made that rule for Grif, because he's years into the past and if he knew half of what was in store for him, he'd never come back. We both know that. Look, there's nothing you can say that would keep me from going back to Chorus when this is all over and getting your ass off that ship. Nothing.
[It's just under vehement and absolutely firm, because it's the truth - he'd known ever since he'd arrived on Legion World that he'd be heading back to Chorus to finish what Hargrove had started. Now that he knows that Tucker at least comes out the other side, he'll be fighting twice as hard to make for damn sure that future comes true.]
And I don't want a play by play. I don't want to know everything that's happened, and I don't want to know what's happening now. I don't want ten months; I want ten minutes. [If Tucker wants to talk Back to the Future, then he can damn well talk Back to the Future.] I want to know that I need to wear a bulletproof vest when the Libyans show up. That's all.
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What if Wash was the only one who could save Epsilon? Could catch him before he did his Big Dumb Stupid Fucking Thing? What if Church didn't have to die?
But what if him arriving early meant Wash was killed instead? ]
Yeah, but what if you're so eager to get there because of the shit I tell you that you forget the damn vest? [The metaphor was getting convoluted. Shit. He shook his head and he wasn't sure if he could just get out of this conversation without shutting it down and walking away. This wasn't like with Caboose; he couldn't wave a laser pointer against a wall and distract him. Wash wouldn't let it go.
So, maybe bargaining...]
Look, I'll stay from Hottie McKill-kini up there, but you need to stay away from this, okay? [It wasn't a fair trade. It wasn't, Tucker knew it, but he didn't know what else to offer him.] Because if you got there any differently than when you did, you could fuck it up more.
[More. More. Not the right word to use.]
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