It slips out before Wash can catch it. The voice is his but the words hold a tone that doesn't belong to him. In the seconds it takes for him to choke on his mistake Carolina has stopped dead in her tracks. There's a tension dark enough beneath her armor to make him start sweating in his.

"Wash…what did you just say?" Her usually cold tone is replaced by a half-angry confusion, like she can't believe what just came out of his mouth.

"Um, Carolina…it's not…I mean, I didn't-"He starts reeling in on himself. Things like this have happened in the past but not with her; never with her.

"No, I heard you. You called me 'Babygirl'." She was zoning in on him like a hawk to its prey. Subconsciously he takes a step back from her but she forcefully closes whatever distance he tries to put between them. "Where did you get that name?!"

"I-" Sweet tea and crickets chirping into the night. He's on the porch and there's paperwork crumpled beneath his hands. Old paint and cedar wood thick in his nose as a frigate breaks the night sky. There she goes. Red hair and tiny fingers. Careful now Babygirl you'll get splinters. Babygirl. Careful now. Careful now-

"David?" Her helmet drops gently to the ground and the same crimson hair clogs his vision. There's worry in her eyes as her fingers prod at his helmet clasps. His back is up against Chorus grass and he's wondering how he ended up there. His thoughts are bleeding and he can't look at her without his helmet on; she'd see too much.

"Please don't call me David," he finally manages a sentence.

"Sorry," her voice drops as she struggles with herself. "…Does this type of thing happen a lot?"

His first instinct is to lie; to brush her off until he could mentally shatter alone and in private, but there's a look in her eyes tells him he won't get away with it. "Yeah, 'used to. It left me alone for a time, but I guess things like that never really stop biting you in the ass. "

"Things? Like what my father did to you?"

It takes him a few heart beats to reply. "…yes."

She falls silent at this, and Wash finally looks at her. He hates how his voice comes out so desperate. "This won't affect my performance. I can still maintain my regular duties and I won't-"

"How much do you remember?" She interrupts him.

He doesn't want to answer. "Enough."

"You know, for as long as we've known each other, we never really talked about what happened to you."

"Well, you never really asked. "

"And I'm asking now." She leans closer to him, and awkwardly puts a hand on his shoulder. "I wasn't there for…well, for the others," CT, North, Maine…York, " so please…I can at least try to be here for you." There's a sudden sadness that pulls at her shoulders, and Wash has seen it before yet he knows he hasn't.

He hates being this close to her; he hates his memories. Not his, his. She's seeking to unearth something that might end up drowning him and he doesn't want to admit it but he's afraid. He can't stop feeling like a rookie freelancer around her and he's just so afraid.

"Wash…we don't have to-"

"No," his fingers etch into the dirt. He wants to shoot something; perform drills; run the lieutenants ragged until he clears his head but in the end he knows Carolina will still be waiting for him with questions from the dark. And everything will be there, still decaying in the back of his head. "No, I mean…fine. It's not something I want to talk about, but maybe if I get it out of the way things would be less awkward between us."

"Awkward? Like how?"

"Well, Boss…I remember a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"2nd grade. You covered yourself in flour and ran naked through the house. "

"I DID NOT!" Her fist playfully connects with his shoulder, and for a brief moment the memories subside, and Wash finds himself again.