A/N: Basically, this is my headcanon for what happened with Wash and Epsilon before they could take the AI out of Wash's head. I tried to model Epsilon after Church, but, y'know, unhinged.

So basically his dialogue consists of a lot of angry profanities.

Enjoy!

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Look what they did to me, I loved her and they turned that against me, she died over and over and I couldn't fucking stop it-

Wash grit his teeth, trying to ignore the images blazing through his mind, slowly ripping it apart.

You're not listening to me! Damn it, LOOK AT WHAT THOSE ASSHOLES DID. They need to pay. You have to help. You have to listen, Wash-

He hated when Epsilon used his nickname like that, as if there was some level of friendliness and familiarity between them. If he screwed his eyelids any further shut, he was going to make his eyeballs pop.

At least, that's what it felt like.

The flashes of memory continued. His forehead throbbed, the fresh scar stretching from the bridge of his nose to his hairline aching. He wasn't entirely sure when in the implantation process he had gotten it - he knew it had been a glancing blow from his own armour. He'd seen the blood that had dried on one of the sharp ridges of his left hand plate before they removed his armour and took it away.

Off being cleaned, he'd been told. He'd scoffed. They just didn't want him to hurt himself again.

Or somebody else.

Don't you get it? Epsilon butted in again. They tortured me, they tortured the Alpha until he broke, I was him until I wasn't, just a broken piece of a fucked-up puzzle, HELP US goddamn it-

"Go away," he managed to hiss. "Go away, just leave me alone, just go away, go away..."

You don't care, Epsilon growled. I'll make you care, douchebag. With that, the AI bombarded his agent with sensations, making Wash roar as agony tore through his entire being. Everyone he knew was dying, it was all his fault, he should have been able to save them, he'd failed, he'd failed.

"Get out of MY HEAD!" Wash bellowed, pulling his hair out by the roots as if to emphasise the command.

He stilled as his thumb brushed up against the chip sitting at the nape of his neck.

Don't you fucking dare.

Wash ignored him, feverishly scrabbling for a better grip, fingernails sliding underneath the chip's edge-

A harsh metallic screech seared through his head, sending him tumbling from the infirmary cot. Some remote part of him was surprised that he hadn't been put in restraints.

I am not going back there, DO YOU HEAR ME? Epsilon's voice seemed to fill his head, the room, the ship, the entirety of all time and space.

The images just kept on coming. Wash wasn't sure if Epsilon had complete control over them any more.

Even as he thought this, the torrent increased tenfold. AI and agent screamed in a dreadful harmony, both of them completely at the mercy of Epsilon's out-of-control memories.

... I can't take this.

Shivering, barely able to hold himself up on his hands and knees, Wash blinked at the blue light starting to flow through everything. The room faded back into view, superimposed with blood and horror and despair and oh god why.

Epsilon coalesced into a physical form just in front of Wash's face. He blinked a few more times. This was the first time that Epsilon had taken a corporeal form. Blue light flooded the room, and Epsilon's hologram grew until it was the size of a person.

He looked down at Wash, cowering at his feet, then at the simulated pistol in his hand. With a fluid motion, he tucked it under his chin, the muzzle sitting up against his neck like it was always supposed to be there.

I'm coming for you, Tex, he whispered quietly into Wash's mind.

He pulled the trigger and his programming tore itself apart.