Wash stared out at the glass window of their apartment as Carolina cooked pasta. She eyed Wash for the seventh time since they had come home from the base. It was a quiet trip to their apartment. Wash had immediately gone into his room when they arrived. Carolina had made lunch and had cleaned the apartment before taking a shower. When she came out of her room in a Freelancer tee-shirt and tight jeans, Wash was still in his room.
"Dinner's ready," Carolina said as she put the spaghetti on the small table in between their two plates.
"Thanks, CT," Wash said and turned towards the table.
She froze and looked at Wash. "Carolina."
"What?" He said and looked into her eyes.
"You called me CT."
His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes turned cold. "Sorry," he said in a tone that didn't match his words. She pursed her full lips but didn't say anything. They ate in silence, the sound of silverware hitting porcelain filled the room.
"You did well today," she said. He looked up from his food for a moment then went back. "I'm impressed how well you did for your first time. Soon, you'll be running laps around me."
He chuckled humorlessly. "I've never been able to do that."
She smiled. "No, that's true. But it's something to strive for." She watched his expression darken once again. "How about we go to the shooting range tomorrow? We can work pistols and work up to rifles. You're making great progress, it won't be long until you're using needlers and grenade launchers again."
"No."
Her eyes widened. "Are you sure? Kimball said we have free reign of the base. We can have the Reds and Blues come too. I know they're itching to train too,"
"No," His eyes never left his plate.
She took a deep breath and the two finished their dinner in silence. She collected the plates and he brought in the leftover pasta. "Maybe we could go see Dr. Gray and see who she would recommend for a therapist who specializes in brain injuries.
Why Carolina?" he shouted. She stopped and stared at his outburst. "Why do you keep pushing me physically and mentally? I have brain damage. This isn't easy. This is harder than getting into the Freelancer Project. Why are you pushing me so hard?"
"Because I can't lose another person!" Wash stopped and looked at the tears in her eyes. "York, North, South, Florida, Maine, Wyoming, even Tex, they were all great soldiers and I've lost every single one of them. I can't lose you too. I just can't." She hung her head to hide the tears and turned to her bedroom. He turned his head so he couldn't see the door, which slammed a moment later.
Anger rose in his body. Anger at her for leaving like that and for pushing him so hard. Anger at himself for getting shot. Anger at forgetting pieces of his life. He searched around for his phone and jacket then shot out the apartment door.