Welcome to Gaia! ::

Dust filtered through the dim glow of the windows, and the smell of musty paper spiced the air. Wash stretched contentedly, book tucked safely under his arm. He'd been a little disappointed by the library's selection- largely because his usual reading material consisted of ESPN magazines. He'd finally settled on a title he'd always promised Denise he'd read. The Davinci Code - there had been a movie or some such, which he hadn't seen; but she'd assured him the book was better.

Something like that, anyway. Without television or anyone to really talk to, the moon hunter had been poking around the building, looking for something while away at his time.

He scratched his chin distractedly, rounding the doorway to leave with a final glance over his shoulder at the receding shelves.

Suddenly, he wasn't moving forward any more. Something warm and soft bounced off his chest, sending his newly aquired book crashing to the ground with a resounding clatter. It took him half a second to whip his head around to see...

"...Sasha?"

He backed up a bit, crouching to retrieve his prize. He hadn't spoken to her since- well. Since their time in captivity. He hesitated, searching her face with his eyes before bowing his head, a slight bob. "Sorry 'bout that. Should be paying more mind to where I'm walkin'. Nice t' see you up and around." He tucked his book back against his ribs, and started to stand.

It was hard, meeting that gaze. It brought back flashes of memory, the kind of horrors that shattered, that cracked, that wormed their way into the deepest and darkest recesses of the mind. The quiet, constant nightmares from which there was no waking. Haunted.

The once cheerful and almost painfully innocent young woman's delicate features were tightened with emotions her eyes and voice wouldn't betray. What darkness did she keep hidden behind those big baby blues? He prayed they were gentler than his own.

"Of course," he replied, dusting off his knees. "What d'ya need?"

Wash joined her at the table, curious, sliding into a chair opposite. The brisque, almost businesslike manner with which she cast the objects across the tabletop was certainly unusual. She waited, distant, closed. He reached for the photographs obediently, turning them over in his hands with careful reverence.

The girl in the photos - he stole a glance at Sasha to confirm that, yes, these were indeed of her. So young, just a baby, really, with only a delicate sweep of hair gracing the top of her head, cherubic face turned toward the camera. So young, she had to be about... He bit his lip, but forced himself to finish the thought. She had to be about Daniel's age, really. He didn't need the caption to recognize the smiling figures beside her in the next were her parents. Their glowing adoration was telling, and he could feel the ache in his heart growing a little deeper, a little more painful.

He had similar photos in his own wallet. He didn't touch the rings, placing the photos down with a hand that trembled slightly. He fought the urge to glance at his own hands. The tan line had faded months ago, but he still found himself trying to twist the ring that was no longer there when he was nervous or lost in thought.

He took a deep breath, trying to focus on the present. She'd learned some news today, she'd said.

"These are your parents." It was a statement, not a question. He realized he didn't know much about the other hunter. Were these smiling people a surprise, or was it something else? What had happened, that these photographs might hint at something new? The questions were easier than facing his own painful memories. "Today? But..." He glanced at the spread, still keeping his eyes averted from the chain with it's heavy burden. The portals were down, so she couldn't have gone to fetch them - recently, anyway. What was she trying to imply?

"What happened?" he added more gently. He wasn't sure if this was sad or happy news for the young woman - her thoughts were closed to him, her body betraying nothing.

That was...surprising. Sure, he knew of people who'd been adopted, but most of them had been told when their parents thought they were old enough.

"Your...other family never told you?" Was she even raised by her blood relatives? It seemed unlikely - why would they keep that kind of thing a secret? And as to the figures themselves, well. "The looks on their faces. They loved you." He looked away, studying a shelf in the distance carefully. "You were their world." A twang of regret.

"I'm sorry, Sasha. This must be...difficult, for you. Truth is never kind," he rumbled, still looking away. More gently, he added, "They don't seem like the kind of folk you'd want to keep secret, though. Did you find out anything else?"

Why would a couple so obviously in love, so happy about their family, leave her behind? Wash finally met her gaze, a deeply unhappy expression clouding his features. He knew a reason, but he didn't know if he wanted to share his own past, given the circumstances.

He tried to imagine it. What it must have been like, growing up with someone who never approved, never loved, someone to whom you were just...

A warm body. A crutch. And he had thought she was so happy-go-lucky, so carefree. Innocent.

He couldn't even begin to relate. He tried, though. "We all want to be... the apple of our daddy's eye, when we're young. We don't know better. Sometimes it's good; healthy. Other times..." He shook his head. This wasn't something he could help with, talk her through - she'd made that journey on her own. His place was to listen. He was - well, he was flattered that she felt she could trust him. After all that had happened; after what he'd been responsible for her going through... It was kind.

A need for acceptance and approval; that he could understand. That someone would make a child feel the way she'd felt, growing up - that he couldn't. "Never feel guilty for bein' who you are. You are," he searched for the right words. "Even through all this - that you can see the truth of it. That you will become a stronger person because of it. You don't need to explain yourself to me, Sasha. But thank you for confiding, for trusting me." It meant a lot to him, he realized. Their friendship. It was one of the few lifelines he had here. One of the few things that kept him anchored. Her and Jerry.

Sasha's next words hit a sour note, however. Jerry. His face reacted almost immediately -surprise, sorrow, but he schooled himself to stillness, tried to consider her side. What did he know about the mechanics of their relationship? He'd always thought of Sasha as this delicate thing - and had since learned in their time as captives that that delicacy hid a much more steely person inside. A person who was quickly coming to her own. What could that mean, for his friend? Had they finally grown apart?

"Fix you?" It sounded strange - sure, the more experienced Jerry had been keen on helping her around the place. Wash realized he didn't know as much about the couple as he thought he did. But the doe eyed looks he always gave her...

"Have you told him how you feel?"

He listened, silent. Somber. Thing she'd never seen, never had- how extensive had her own personal abuse been? He thought of all the times he'd relied on the wisdom and advice of his own father. All the times that it was the only thing that kept him going. What would he have become, without that?

He remembered the horsewoman's dream, and knew his answer. An answer. It wasn't pretty, but... There was no advice he could give. No words he could say, to make this go away. Life had to be lived, mistakes had to be made to be learned from. He hoped sincerely that she wouldn't make any. That she'd keep making the right choices. But he couldn't tell her that - it wasn't his place. He couldn't imagine what her life had been like.

"Jerry is..." Wash began carefully, "Jerry is a good man, who has a lot of pers'nal demons. He can be his worst enemy, sometimes."

And after all she'd been through - after all she'd been denied...

"People grow apart, sometimes. We been through a lot here. I can't change your mind about anything-" he held his hands up at his sides, almost defensively, "wouldn't dare try. Just... if this is really how you feel. If you know in your heart things won't work out, then, well."

He remembered Jerry's other girlfriend, vaguely. Candace, it had been? Of his own confusion on that front- what'd happened, wether or not it was truly over. Jerry had been a wreck,although he'd only heard vague accounts secondhand.

"Then let him go. Clean and quick, right? You sound like you plan on bein' a very busy young lady anyway. Mayhap that's for the best. You don't want things to linger, to-" he shook his head again, "to sour. Just try to remember what he used to mean to you, yeah?"

"I wish you the best, I truly do. But you know him better than I, prob'ly. If he doesn't feel the same way..." It will be hard for both of them, he thought but didn't say aloud. Cold, but not cruel. Distant, not demeaning. It was a fine line to walk, especially at a time of so much trauma. He couldn't really fault her if she didn't, but... his eyes, his expression said he thought well enough of her that he believed she'd try.

"It's hard, letting go. Especially if you still have feelings, you still love someone. Even if that's not who they are anymore. Even if it's not meant to be." He stared at his own hands. "It takes time. Sometimes you never really let go. But you learn to pretend. I hope for both your sakes that that won't be the case."

He nodded sadly. "You do what you have to, Sasha. But - don't let the fear rule you. Caring is a risk, but it's also a choice. We all make our own beds, right? You do what you gotta do to be right by you."

Then - "He...You..." He tried to imagine it. A desperate move, certainly. And also... ok, ok, a little funny, but. He palmed his face for a moment. "Yeah, yeah. You don't happen to know what he, er...Where he went after that, do you?" A concerned expression. How long had it been? Surely Jerry was alright. Yeah. Maybe in his room, or out practicing or something.

Probably.