Prompt: ( secretlystephaniebrown) Angst War: Wash and Carolina are paralyzed in a room with the bodies of their dead friends.

A/N: If anyone doesn't know, I have three major fears in my life that cause me to have panic attacks: sleep paralysis, drowning, and closed spaces. SO THIS WAS FUN as in not at all.

Red vs Blue and related properties © Rooster Teeth
story © RenaRoo

Claustrophobia

He listened.

Over the grunts and snarls and thumps of Carolina struggling in her own armor, over his own body straining against the impossible to strain against.

Washington listened to Temple's foot fall against the metal floors of the trap room. He listened to them carry down the hall he had taken them through, to the hydraulics of the lift as it opened its doors to him. To the sound of him stopping inside. To the hydraulics again. To–

He was gone. The lift left without them. And Wash still couldn't even change his point of view, couldn't pull harder with his finger on the trigger of his rifle.

"TEMPLE!" Carolina screamed through her armor like the word was something venomous and primal.

Her struggling noises increased. Her breathing, her growling and snarls.

Wash couldn't see her in his peripheral vision. He was frozen in spot and it was not a spot where he could see her.

He could only look back and forth from his set gaze straight ahead. He could see – he could see Alaska, Illinois, Virginia–

He could see them in place.

Washington's own breathing became noticeable to him. A dry heaving inside of his mask. Even with armor lock, his air filters worked, but nothing else. His HUD was activated, but unresponsive to his attempts to change its settings, to activate his armor in anyway.

Carolina's panting was louder than her growls of frustration.

"TEMPLE!"

Sweat was beginning to build on Wash's forehead. Perhaps some of it had already been there, he hadn't noticed.

At the moment he became immensely aware of it.

A drop raced down the side of his cheek. He could hear the movement of his jawbone as he ground back on his teeth.

Alaska, Illinois, Virginia–

Carolina was only panting, there was no more snarl, just heavy breathing, just frustrated huffs of air.

Washington could see Alaska, Illinois, Virginia–

"Carolina," he called out.

"I'm thinking," she said in a roar. She was still there with him, but no longer wasting energy.

He still couldn't see her.

Wash's air filter kicked on again, washing over his mouth and nose with fresh oxygen. But it wasn't fresh. It was foul, it was decay, it was death and it was inescapable. It smelled stronger than when Carolina and he had first smelled it and–

He could see Alaska, Illinois, Virginia–

"Carolina," he said again.

"I'm here," she answered instead.

Washington became aware of the pressure in his ears. They were deep beneath the ocean and he could feel the need for his ears to pop. The strain was nearly audible when he moved his jaw.

For good measure, he tried to relieve the pressure by swallowing a few times. It seemed to only build.

The smell was putrid it was–

"Wash?" Carolina called out.

He wasn't in her peripheral either. They had managed to be both too close and too far apart before the lock set in.

Washington felt his chest strain. There was enough room to breathe in his suit even in lock, but it was still restricted. He couldn't panic. Panic would mean trying to spread his lungs more. There wasn't room for it.

Breathing, at least mentally, became harder.

"I'm here," he answered Carolina with the obvious.

He tugged on his muscles, his arms were forced up and getting to feel strained. He could have sworn the movement of his own bones and joints, the tendons snapping and releasing, were audible to him at that point.

He wondered what it was like for Alaska, Illinois, Virginia–

"They're upstairs," Wash said lowly. "The Reds and Blues."

"He's going to kill them," Carolina said in alarm.

Washington, though, held onto the only instinct, the only part of his entire body that wasn't causing him panic and pain anymore. He held onto his faith. "He can try."

His filters kicked on again, Wash wondered if any of their comrades had drowned in their own vomit. The thought alone was making it hard for him not to attempt it.

But he had to have faith. He had to grind back his teeth, listen to the pulse of his veins, fight the pressure in his ears. The Reds and Blues never truly failed him before.

Still…

Wash wondered how long Alaska, Illinois, Virginia, held onto their faith in getting out.

The filters washed more stench into his helmet. Wash's heart pounded.

It was hard to breathe.