I do not own Red vs. Blue.

Sleepless in Valhalla

Sleep did not come easy to Washington. Not since his assigned A.I. killed itself inside of his head only seconds after implantation. The manipulation of the Director and the betrayal of his fellow Freelancers compounded that trauma. Losing North and York had killed him, emotionally, and he thought his soul had died with them.

But within the first few weeks of his new life in Valhalla, something happened that he had never expected. Two handprints bloomed to life on his skin, a stark contrast against the burnt black marks that once belonged to North and York. Whatever Wash had been anticipating after becoming Blue Team's new commander, exchanging soulmarks with Caboose and Tucker wasn't on his list. It wasn't even something he considered being in the realm of possibility.

To say he had been emotionally distraught after each exchange would be a generous way of phrasing how he had reacted. Especially considering he had received Tucker's soulmark in the midst of a furious, volatile argument.

Sitting in the doorway of Blue Base, the permanently-sunny sky stretching endlessly above him, Wash grimaced as his mind unbiddenly replayed his breakdowns. He hadn't known a soul could weep but it turned out it could.

The tips of his ears turned red as humiliation welled within him at the memory and it took him a minute to remember to put up a barrier to block Caboose and Tucker from experiencing his emotions. The two of them called it being soul-linked to one another and Washington didn't quite know how to deal with it.

He was used to being in control. Used to keeping his secrets under lock and key in the far, dusty corners of his heart. He was extremely uncomfortable having his deepest feelings available to his new soulmates twenty-four/seven. It was different and foreign and not something that had occurred once his soul-connection had been established with North and York.

The very thought of them caused pain to wrench his heart and he took a hard breath as an old and familiar agony sank its talons into his chest.

Don't go there. Don't think about them.

He dug the heels of his hands against his eyes. The breeze was cool against his skin, goosebumps prickling along his flesh. His nerves twitched with unease for being without his armour, but it was one of those nights where being in an enclosed space made him feel like he was going to suffocate.

Strange, really, how his armour could be a tool to either cripple him or empower him.

At least he didn't have to worry about enemy fire. The only other ones in the canyon were the Reds and judging by the colours marking Caboose and Tucker's bodies, he knew they weren't in any danger of a serious attack.

He focussed on his breathing, trying to loosen the tightly-wound knot in his stomach. Footsteps sounded behind him and he whirled around, rising to his knees and his fingers flying for the knife in the waistband of his sweatpants. Tucker paused a distance away, his posture sleepy but his dark eyes alert as he regarded Wash's actions warily.

"Not again," he grumbled. "Seriously, dude, who else would it be?"

"Sorry. Instinct," muttered Wash, lowering his hand. Ire rose in him and he wanted to snap at them for continuing to approach him without warning. But he swallowed the barbed words, knowing it wasn't their fault, that they were behaving normally and he wasn't. "What are you doing up?"

"It's hard to sleep when I can feel you drowning in anxiety."

Wash furrowed his brow in confusion. "I tried blocking you from it."

"If that's your idea of an emotional barrier it needs some serious work."

"Why are you sad?" asked Caboose. He stood beside Tucker, his curly hair sticking up at all angles, and stared at Wash with mournful brown eyes.

"I'm not sad," said Wash sharply.

"Yes, you are," said Tucker with a snort.

Clearly his barrier was rubbish, because their concern churned through him and Wash felt his heart stutter from their care. He carted his fingers through his blonde hair and his jaw tightened. "It's just one of those nights."

"You have a lot of them," remarked Caboose.

Wash smiled bitterly. "I guess I do. I didn't mean to wake you. You can go back to bed. I'll be fine."

"Yeah right," muttered Tucker. "You haven't slept since you got here."

"I have," defended Wash. "The first few weeks I slept okay."

"If you count four hours of sleep a night as 'okay', sure," said Tucker snidely.

"Why won't you tell us what's wrong?" asked Caboose quietly. "We can help."

"You can't," said Wash grimly. "Trust me."

He turned to face the grass, which was drenched in the golden light. His blue eyes were haunted by ghosts only he could see. Tucker exchanged a glance with Caboose and motioned him forwards. They settled on either side of the ex-Freelancer and Tucker wrapped his arms around his knees.

"It's us, isn't it?" he asked knowingly. "It's about us being your soulmates."

"But I thought you liked having us as your Best Friends," said Caboose with a wounded expression.

"I do!" said Washington quickly, hating the hurt that shone in Caboose's bright brown eyes. "It's…it's complicated."

But it wasn't. Not really. He was terrified to have soulmates again, of having to once again go through the agony of losing them to death. He was aware of the unfilled handprints on his body, ones that he thought for so long would remain empty. He knew now, without a doubt, that the Reds and Blues were his soulmates, and he didn't know if he could handle it.

His fear and confliction flowed through their soul-link and Tucker flinched against it. "You gotta work with us, man," he said, more pleading than exasperated. "I know you're not used to this but you can't avoid us. It hurts us just as much as it hurts you."

Wash could feel his soul trembling, feel it ache. It had wanted to soul-bond with them for days but Wash fought against the instincts, because he couldn't deal with the intensity, couldn't confront the fact that he needed to bond with them.

"We could cuddle," said Caboose earnestly. "Then it won't hurt anymore!"

Tucker shot him a glare. "It's soul-bonding."

"That's what I said."

"I don't think—" began Wash, but Tucker interrupted him.

"Please."

The softness of his voice and the hopeful shine to Caboose's eyes caused Washington to relent, if only because he knew that Tucker was right and his distance was causing them pain and distress. He had no right to put them through that, no matter how uncomfortable and, admittedly, scared he was of their new and powerful bond.

"Okay," he said quietly.

Relief flooded through him and Caboose beamed. "Yay! We can do it in my room!"

"Watch your phrasing, dude," snapped Tucker as they climbed to their feet. "We can only handle one Donut."

Washington trailed behind the pair as they entered their base and went down the short, narrow hall to Caboose's room. Wash frowned sharply at the clothes haphazardly strewn across the floor. "Didn't I tell you to put these away?"

"Maybe. I don't remember," answered Caboose.

When Wash opened his mouth to rebuke Caboose further, Tucker grabbed his arm and said, "Whine about it later. I'm freaking tired."

The mattress sagged beneath their weight and in the small space they were pressed tightly together. Washington was closed in, his body pressed between Caboose and Tucker, and his anxiety skyrocketed. His body jerked upwards, the need to flee overwhelming. Tucker's hand smoothed over the aqua handprint on his right shoulder and Caboose set his hand against Wash's left hip. A sleepiness that was not his own caressed Washington, along with a gentle warmth and reassurance. He crumpled back against the pillows with a soft, strangled whine.

His confliction and his fear crashed over Tucker and Caboose like a storm, crackling and torrential. Tucker grit his teeth against the negativity, unable to tell if Wash had improved since their first soul-bond or if he had gotten worse.

'I wouldn't go so far to say that I've improved.'

Tucker felt a flash of embarrassment. 'Sorry.'

'It's okay. It's just been a rough time.'

'No,' thought Tucker with heavy sarcasm. 'I couldn't tell by your complete avoidance of us and your horrid sleep schedule.'

Caboose rested his chin against the top of Washington's head. 'You're scared. You won't lose us.'

His confidence met with the ridges of Washington's anxiety and was repulsed by sudden, bright anger. 'Don't say what you can't mean.'

'Caboose always says what he means,' returned Tucker flatly. 'Even if we have no freaking clue as to what he's trying to say.'

'We are Best Friends. We are supposed to be together.'

Washington's bitterness rolled over them as he thought of North and York, and a heartache so strong caused Tucker and Caboose's souls to tremble. Tucker let his forehead fall against Washington's. 'I wish they were still with you. I wish your team didn't implode and backstab one another. But as difficult as it may be for you to believe, we're not going to kill each other.' He paused for a moment before adding jokingly, 'So long as we're able to keep avoiding Sarge's insane attack plans, anyway. He's pretty trigger-happy.'

'You don't understand.'

And they didn't. The excruciating pain of losing a soulmate was not something that could be shared during a soul-bond. They could only feel how deeply it affected him. It was the one thing his soul kept secret and for that Washington was grateful. He didn't want them to have any idea of what he had gone through when York and North's hearts stopped beating.

He didn't want to go through it again. And with full knowledge of the colours yet to appear on his skin and who they belonged to he knew the odds weren't in his favour.

'Why worry about what might not happen?' asked Caboose curiously.

His insight caused Washington some pause and Tucker's amusement flowed through him, smoothing out more of his harsh emotional edges. 'Yeah. Don't get used to it. He's only smart once in a blue moon.'

'Moons are not blue and I am smart all the time,' thought Caboose with an annoyed huff. 'Stupid Tucker.'

'I'm just really great at worrying, Caboose,' thought Washington wearily.

'Well, knock it off,' countered Tucker. 'Your stress is giving me a headache. I can only imagine what it's doing to you.'

'Yeah. I'll get right on that,' deadpanned Wash.

All of his negativity poured from his soul and Tucker and Caboose met it with resilience and patience. Immense gratitude consumed Wash and he didn't deserve them—

'Stop being mean to yourself,' though Caboose, and the hold he had on Wash's waist tightened. 'It's not very nice.'

'You're just one big bundle of trauma and self-deprecation, aren't you?' thought Tucker with a rush of exasperation.

But Wash could not respond, for his soul was humming with contentment and his muscles finally relaxed as the tension oozed out of him. He melted into the pillows, blue eyes falling shut, weighed down with exhaustion but his heart felt oddly light. The negativity had been purged and the intensity of their soul-bond, one he was still not used to, lulled him to sleep.

'We did it!'

'Shut up,' thought Tucker, not unkindly, and he lightly ruffled Caboose's dark curls. 'Go to sleep. Snore and I'll stab you.'

'Okay!'

…

When Washington awoke the next morning, it was with heavy limbs and a decrease in alertness he wasn't accustomed to. He slowly sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, flushing slightly as he recalled the method his two slumbering soulmates had utilized to help him sleep.

He still didn't know how to feel about their soul-connection. It was strong and overpowering and completely different from his soulmate experience with North and York. It required a closeness he wasn't sure he would ever be good at and an intimacy he wasn't sure he would ever be fully comfortable with.

But he did know one thing.

Watching them sleep, Tucker hanging partly off the bed with an arm thrown over his face and Caboose splayed out, his leg thrown over Wash's, affection stirred in a heart he had thought to be long since dead and cold.

He would do whatever he needed to protect them.

He wasn't losing another soulmate.

He wasn't.