Locus didn't visit often.
"Hello Agent Washington. How are you today?"
It had been four weeks, three days since Wash had been taken prisoner by the Federal Army of Chorus. It had been four weeks, three days since he'd somewhat sacrificially allowed for Tucker, Felix and the others to escape, leaving himself in the hands of the Federal soldiers. Four weeks, three days of nothing but being pushed around, into the backs of cars and various cells, tiny windowless rooms, and even once an actual dungeon (chains and all).
"Still not talking to me, then? You really are as stubborn as they say, aren't you?"
He'd been in this particular cell for about eight days now, which was probably the longest he'd been in the one place since the canyon. This probably meant that the Feds had stopped being overly paranoid and were certain he was secure in this particular facility. This was all good and well for them, but didn't bode well for Wash himself.
"I have news, actually."
Admittedly, things were looking bad. Thoughts that had been bouncing around in his head for weeks now kept wandering, unbidden, to the forefront of his mind; what if Tucker and the others hadn't been able to get away- could he really trust that Felix would protect them?; where were Sarge and Donut- were they like him, isolated and being constantly moved around- were they even alive?; and where the hell was Church and Carolina- had they already skipped the planet or were they out there getting involved in the Chorus civil war as well? It seemed like his only small victory at late was that he hadn't yet resorted to counting the hours and minutes since he'd been captured as well as the days. Wow, had he lowered his standards.
"Something you might be interested in hearing."
Locus didn't visit often, and when he did, he just, well, talked. There was no ungodly torture like Wash had expected, the bastard hadn't even touched him. The conversations were always one sided, but Locus still talked like they were old friends, which was entirely disconcerting.
"Have you heard from your friends? Oh that's right, you don't know where they are."
"I read somewhere about your time as a Freelancer- is it really true that you went crazy and that all your friends are dead?"
"Do you think someone's going to try a rescue mission soon? That would be interesting, wouldn't it? It would certainly liven this place up a bit."
Through all of this, Wash had strained himself to physically keep his face neutral and calm, drilling a hole with his eyes into the opposite wall of his cell. He couldn't react to Locus' taunts, couldn't let any tiny display of weakness get out. The bastard would probably take any ammunition Wash handed to him and turn it back around on the former Freelancer with brutality. Locus wasn't some amateur, he knew exactly what he was doing.
"That teal soldier you were with, what was his name? Terker, Ticker, Trucker? Oh that's right, Tucker."
That got Wash's attention, his proverbial ears prickling at the familiar name. Oh, goddamnit. No no no no, he couldn't crack, not now! Wash gritted his teeth, determined not to react further, not to give the bastard any satisfaction.
From behind the bars of the cell, Locus tilted his helmet, as though penetrating Wash with a calculating look. There was a pause.
"I thought I should come tell you- I ran into Tucker yesterday. He, your buddy Felix and a couple of scumbag rebels infiltrated one of our compounds and managed to steal some valuable intel."
Wash's heart was thumping in his ribcage. Tucker was fine, he got away! He was with the New Republic! He was fighting! He tried to rein in his relief, his breath betraying him as it hitched ever so slightly.
A half-glance at Locus, and his heart sunk. He could almost see the triumphant grin through the blacked out visor, as though Wash had just given the bastard a Christmas present.
"I should also tell you that it did not end well. Oh, don't worry- your boyfriend is fine, he got away. I can't say the same for two of his men, though. From what I understand, he blew the entire operation, just for a chance to find you."
What Wash wanted more than anything else in that moment was to punch Locus in the face. Repeatedly. With a car. No, wait, a truck. The bastard's words stung- Tucker, what are you doing- but he couldn't show any more weakness, not to Locus, not to anyone. He pushed everything down - the new information, the emotions that came with it, everything- until he could process it without Locus standing there talking at him. He couldn't give the psychopathic bastard anything. Especially anything about Tucker.
"You'd think, after all that training you made him do, that he would have at least learnt something about being a proper soldier and following orders. If I were you, I would be very… disappointed in him."
It had been four weeks, three days since Wash had been captured. Four weeks, three days, seven hours of dealing with uncertainty and not giving Locus any satisfaction, even though cracks were beginning to show in his armour. Four weeks, three days, seven hours and twenty two minutes since he'd last seen Tucker, and Caboose and the Reds.
"Well, I better get going, Agent Washington. I'm a busy man, you know. Always nice to chat with you. Have a good day, now."
Locus didn't visit often, but when he did, he always left Wash with a twisting in his gut, and this time was no different.
...
Tuckington feels overload in the last ep. This is my contribution to the bottomless pit of tears that many of us shippers have become.
Note: Des and I came to the conclusion that Carolina has probably ordered Locus not to torture Wash and the others, but that doesn't mean that Locus can't start with the psychological crap. My poor bby Wash I'm so mean to him and so is Miles. Also the whole 'boyfriend' thing is based on that post on Tumblr that keeps getting notes. *shakes fist*