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Wash stumbled a step.

"What?"

"I-" His brow wrinkled, a deep, considering frown. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

His respect for the division leader had already been virtually non-existent, but. Now he was a little angry. But who- Oh. That explained why Candace had very suddenly not been in the picture. "Well, I don't think history is gonna be repeatin' itself, for what it's worth." Wash shook his head. "But if it does, you call me next time before you go chargin' in there alone." He tried for a joke. "Some moon I'd be if I didn't back you up, eh?"

No, he believed in Sasha, she just needed space. Space to figure things out.

"Sasha has...been through a lot recently, yeah? It's not your fault, man. Sometimes things just... They don't work out. Sometimes you gotta let go," he sighed, "even when it feels like it was the only thing you had worth a damn." The last was quiet, said more to himself than to the other man.

"Look, is there anythin'..." He paused, searching for words. "Anythin' I can do for you, you just let me know. Even if it means goin' back in that office and givin' H the what-for."

"Jerry..." he said the man's name almost involuntarily; a plea. It hurt his heart to see him like this; hurt his head to hear him talk that way.

"Jerry, I don't think - that is." He took in a deep breath. "I dunno that this is about, about love or hate; everyone just..." He let it out in a sigh. "Some people cope differint'ly, to...stress. We've all been under a lot and, well, I figure that girl's boat's been rocked somethin' awful as of late. You and I, that might make us cling to what we know, y'know? But not everyone handles - sometimes people change."

"Her whole world has been reordered, livin' here. You two were good for each other; and I..." He searched for words. "I know you care for her. But she just ain't that girl anymore, and I dunno if she ever will be."

Wash looked at him then, giving him honest eyes. "I know that no matter how she feels 'bout you now, she wouldn't want to see you cuttin' yourself up like this. If she hadn't cared, she wouldn't have sent me after you, yeah? You both have been through so much, and I..." He stopped, his faced clouded.

He pulled the man into a sudden, fierce hug. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. "Sorry it happened like this."

Wash hadn't drank since college; it wasn't that he was a teetotaler - he had just never really felt the call of alcohol.

But - "Sure, man, sure," he replied, his own voice a little hoarse.

Wash tentatively took a seat on the couch next to Jerry, but not so close as to be invading his personal space. He surveyed the room from his perch, about to remark on the improvement in accommodations - when he saw the little fliers. It was like a wound. It wasn't that he wasn't proud of the woman his friend was becoming - everyone grows up, eventually - but it was still a small death. A death that made way for something new. Winter before spring. The naive girl who had drawn those was truly gone; for better or worse.

Just another casualty.

He looked away, then. Was it naive of himself, of both of them, to expect any of them to be able to keep that child-like nature, that innocence? Why did this rebirth have to come from so much pain and hardship? He was happy for her, but in a way, he was sad, too. What should have been a time of joy and new growth was instead a time of grief and remorse. Coulda-beens, should-haves. Would-have-dones. Wash knew those all too well.

And of course, there was Jerry. Left to deal with the aftermath. To clear away the remains of the girl he'd loved. It wasn't - it wasn't fair. "Do you believe in God, Jerry?" He asked suddenly, his voice quiet, unhappy.

"Yeah."

Wash leaned forward, silent, to help himself to the bottle, just pouring a tiny dab on the end of his scarf to use to wipe the marker off his face. He was drowning; lost in memories of another time - a happier time.

"I keep thinkin' -" he stopped, shook his head, and then continued. "That is... We jus' fight, and fight; and it don't make any difference." He leaned back, to stare beseechingly at the ceiling. He thought of Denise. His life back home - and everything that had happened after. Had he really been happy, since? Had all his good memories been based on reflections of the past?

"Nothin' seems to work out like it should. All the good people, they jus' suffer; suffer and fall." He sighed. "Is this some kind o' punishment? A test?" Was their only reward to be a violent, undignified death? God save us, he had thought so many times, and they had survived - but at what cost? He thought of Sasha, and Otto; Rin and Ami. None of them had deserved what they'd gotten, surely. They were all so young, some of them already so terribly jaded. He knew that they were nearly his age, maybe older -but he felt ancient, just then. It was an effort to move enough to set the bottle back on its makeshift table. He didn't drink any, not yet. He just stared, and played with the frayed edge of his scarf. Maybe he didn't understand - maybe there was some divine plan, in all this, after all. He couldn't see it, though. Couldn't see past the loss and the pain and the price they'd all paid; time and time again.

A crisis of faith, then. But it was more than that - who were they really saving, protecting this island? How could they protect everyone when they could barely defend themselves?

"I- No - That is... I dunno." He covered his eyes with his hand.

"It might as well be, sometimes." Wash pinched the bridge of his nose.