"Hang on—just a little further—"
"Oh for fuck's sake, it's gone. Let it go."
"Never!"
A pair of legs was all that was visible, connected to a body that was dangling just beyond the ledge of the walkway. Various grunts perforated the air as Wash stretched his fingers as long as they could go, trying valiantly to reach his target.
"C'mon, man. It's been half an hour. It's not going anywhere. Get it tomorrow."
"So…close…"
He continued reaching, feeling the very tips of his fingers brush over the thin object. It had happened a few times already but he was never able to get a grip on it—until now. He danced his fingers along it, attempting to roll it to a closer position, and finally managed to pinch it between two fingers, lifting it gingerly out of the gutter running alongside the walkway. He'd been chewing on it as they walked; eventually he'd tripped over his own feet and dropped it over the side railing.
"You never leave a man behind," Wash said triumphantly, scrambling to his feet. Pinched between his fingers was a light blue bendy straw, slightly covered in dust and specks of dirt. He wiped it on his shirt as he and York walked back towards the locker room.
"Don't you have a box of those in your locker?" York pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
"But it was a blue one!" Wash smiled and stuck the straw in the back pocket of his pants. He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling weird from the rush of blood going from his head towards the rest of his body. "Where's North?"
"Should be waiting for us in the locker room," York replied as they passed the door leading to the control room. Everything around them was silent, as it was the middle of the night. "Hey, are you feeling okay?"
"I guess. My head hurts. And my vision is a little…fuzzy."
"Probably from trying to get your stupid straw."
"No, the fuzziness kicked in…" Wash thought for a moment. "I think about a day ago?"
"Why didn't you say anything?!"
"I didn't want to make anyone worry!"
York shook his head. "None of us have slept in forty-one hours. I think it's safe to assume we're all worried about ourselves by this point."
The symptoms varied amongst them, but the insomnia was the worst. Normally it was bad enough trying to sleep, thinking back to various missions and all the people they had killed over the years, not to mention thinking of teammates they had lost or the horrible AI personalities with which some of them had been implanted.
The Director had said they needed some sort of data for a new project, and they had to take these little white pills. Washington, York, and North Carolina were the test subjects chosen; originally Maine had been selected as well, but after he threw his knifle towards the computers next to the Director, he'd been allowed to "opt out." The others didn't seem to see a problem—it was just a few pills, what was the big deal?
No one had mentioned the possible side effects.
Wash reached up to rub his eyes, suddenly feeling completely exhausted. The feeling had been hitting him every other hour, giving him occasional reprieves of feeling like he was wired beyond belief, nearly bouncing around the base. "I wonder how North is holding up."
"Not good, last I saw."
They finally reached the locker room and Wash pulled open the door, walking inside. The place was trashed—a few of the stand-alone lockers were lying on the ground, covered in massive dents, and articles of clothing were strewn around the place, covering the benches and patches of scuffed tile. North was crouched in the corner, hugging his knees, looking up and down and to each side so rapidly that he was probably giving himself whiplash.
"North? What the hell, are you all right?!" Wash knelt down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, and North finally looked straight at him, struggling to focus his vision. His pupils were dilated and a light sheen of sweat covered his face.
"Wash! Is that really you, man?" North blinked a few times, obviously trying to pull himself together. "Oh my god, be careful—they're everywhere!"
"What's everywhere?" York asked, stepping over a locker.
"The aliens!" North hissed through clenched teeth.
"Aliens." York suppressed a laugh, coming to stand in front of them. "Come again?"
"There were aliens in here just a second ago! I managed to scare them off with a couple shots, but they scattered and I tried to find them but—"
Wash cut off North's babbling by placing a hand over his mouth, shaking his head. "It's okay, North. Calm down. You're just really, really tired. There's no aliens here. Just us."
"But they were right there—" he managed to say from under Wash's hand, not seeing the look he was giving him.
Wash glanced over at the far wall, which was now decorated with fresh gunshot holes. "Oh, I don't want to have to explain that to the Director," he muttered, moving his hand away from North's face to cross his arms over his chest.
"Do you have any more pills? Maybe he should take another one," York suggested.
Wash shook his head. "I just ran out. I don't think they gave us equal amounts, which is weird. Aren't we supposed to be taking them every three hours?"
York frowned. "I thought it was every six hours…"
Wash jumped as York's face began to move. His good eye blinked a few times and started to shift slightly to the right, as though it was trying to escape his face. A second later, the scar over his left eye began to fade and suddenly it was gone, as though he'd never been injured.
York noticed Wash staring at him with his mouth open in shock, eyes wide. "Uh…you okay?"
"Did your scar just heal?"
"Okay, time to go lay down." York reached out and helped Wash to his feet, leaving North cowering on the ground. "You too, crazy."
"But the aliens—"
"Will still be here in the morning. Let's go." He left Wash standing, slightly swaying back and forth, and tried to help North to his feet, but he stubbornly refused to stand up.
"I've got to stand guard," he said, shaking his head rapidly.
"Okay, you do that. Come on, Wash. Let's get you to bed." York grabbed his arm and started walking him towards the doorway, carefully avoiding the debris everywhere.
"Be careful! Watch out for aliens!" North yelled out as they closed the door to the locker room, heading for the barracks.
"So now that North has set up camp in Crazy Town, are you planning on moving there too?"
"Hey, why aren't you feeling weird yet?" Wash asked, trying to walk straight.
"I don't know. Maybe my metabolism is just better. Or my body just likes me and hasn't betrayed me like yours so obviously has."
"But you haven't slept either, right?"
York shrugged. "I've gone longer with no sleep. Once there was this chick and—"
"No, no, I don't want to hear it," Wash moaned, shaking his head. "Stop it stop it—"
"Wow, I was just trying to tell a story. Way to overreact there." York sighed. "Well, as long as you're out of pills, the side effects should start wearing off soon. Maybe you'll actually sleep."
"Doubt it. I just took my last one an hour ago. I probably have another couple days of this shit left." He glanced over at York as they walked. "Hey, when did you learn how to levitate? Can you teach me?"
"Lay down now," York ordered, quickly stopping in the middle of the hallway.
"I'm fine!"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small packet of pills, inspecting the handful he had left as Wash leaned against the wall, petting something imaginary that had apparently materialized in front of him in mid-air. He counted the remaining pills, plucking one out of the bag to inspect it. Had they all had that same marking on them before? And why did it look so familiar?...
"I'm hungry," Wash said suddenly, starting to walk towards the mess hall. "Let's go get dinner."
"It's three in the morning!"
"I'm making pancakes!" he called back, swaggering down the hall. York watched him disappear around the corner and looked back down at the pill, a burst of recognition hitting him. He knew he'd seen these pills before, and remembered exactly where.
He ran down the hall towards the barracks and burst inside one of the rooms, dashing over to the bed on the far left wall. A second later his right hand was clenched in a tight fist as he straddled South, who was wide awake at the ruckus. Her face was twisted in a sadistic grin, probably having been expecting someone to figure it out much sooner.
"Took you long enough," she laughed, not even flinching as York brought his fist up to her face, his eyes narrowed in anger.
"Your fucking caffeine pills," he growled. "I knew I recognized them—you use those things before missions!"
"I just thought it would be fun!"
"Where are the real pills?!"
"Mixed in. I didn't want to completely fuck up the results, just…mess with you guys a little. Especially North."
York leaned in, his face inches from hers. "Tomorrow. On the training field. I'm going to kick. Your. Ass."
"Like that's going to happen. You haven't slept in days, asshole."
"Just wait." He climbed off of her and she sat up, running a hand through her hair.
"Aw, done so soon? Carolina must always be so disappointed—"
A gunshot crackled through the air and she jumped; a bullet was lodged in the wall just inches to her right. York stood in the doorway, gun in hand.
"Fuck. You."
She watched in shock as he left, ignoring Carolina sitting up in bed from the other side of the room, gun in hand, ready to attack. She blinked, saw South as white as a sheet, and shook her head, rolling back over to go back to sleep.