#DOES FILSS COUNT?

[pvtchurch]

he has literally never met a woman before and the only woman he knows WAS SPLIT OFF FROM HIS MIND.

[leonardalphachurch]

saw the question of “how long does it take rvb to pass the bechdel test” and i got curious and also wanted to make myself mad so.

my answer is Reconstruction: Chapter 5 (s6e5). there’s a recorded conversation between sheila and tex about the ship crashing.

my answer with no caveats is Evacuation Plan (s9e4). carolina, 479er, filss and south all participate in a conversation that takes up a good chunk of the episode.

i talk a LOT more about the state of female character interactions under the cut.

the first time two women talk at all is s2e11/bgc30:

sheila bisexual moments. while iconic, this isn’t much of a conversation (tex doesn’t ever speak to her) and it’s certainly about a man so. doesn’t count. next!

next is s3e1/bgc39:

while here it’s implied that they are actually having a conversation at least we still don’t actually see any exchanges between them and they’re still talking about men and quote “Boring stuff like oppression, and a hostile work environment.” which is great but. a) we don’t see it. and b) again, still about men

next is tex and kai’s exchange in season 5. which is misogynistic as fuck and even if it did pass the bechdel test i would refuse to count it. but guess what! not only are they talking about men, but we literally do not see them talk to each other. kai speaks to tex “who’s o’malley?” but tex doesn’t respond to her, instead asking the guys “who’s the girl?” (s5e10/bgc92). then they talk in the background of the next episode while church and tucker are misogynistic. then it’s two more episodes until we get this gem

y’know, girl stuff! how fucking charming. these writers really have a great grasp on how woman act. god, it’s even worse when compared to tex and sheila’s conversation earlier. in what world would tex be fucking intimidated by kai.

and you know what the joke of this all is. even if they did have a conversation here that passed the bechdel test it still wouldn’t count under some rule sets because kai still doesn’t have a name at this point. great work team.

s5e15/bgc92 has a deleted scene where kai calls up a girl friend and they talk… i’m not counting it because 1) kai is as of yet unnamed and the girl friend is never named, 2) the conversation is ostensibly about junior, though they do talk about other stuff enough that you could argue it’s not about a man, but 3) it’s deleted. you don’t get credit for shit you deleted.

next time two women talk to each other is recovery one episode 4. this is the first time we see two women have an actual, back and forth conversation. the conversation is between south and commamd about wash, delta, and the fact that south isn’t rejoining freelancer. i do think this conversation fits the spirit of the bechdel test (two women talking to each other with deeper characterizations unmoored from being about men) but that’s only really by technicality. command isn’t a character here and doesn’t become one for another 4 seasons; the conversation is only retroactively a deeper one. it’s up to you whether or not you pass it. i think it’s important to remember that the bechdel test isn’t really a hard test to determine what’s feminist (and was made in the first place to be about queer women being able to see themselves in media) but rather a marker to help sort out if the female characters in a work are allowed any depth outside of men. this exercise is less about finding a scene fitting exact criteria and more about. me going oh god it really is fucking bad out there huh.

my actual pick, as i said in the beginning, is s6e5. though tex mentions gamma and the aliens, the conversation is still about the fact that the ship is crashing. and in terms of the spirit of the test, two women yelling at each other as they die definitely fits definitely fits “deeper character motivations outside of men” imo. it’s. kind of really sad though. the first time we ever see tex and sheila have an actual conversation is the last time we really see either of them, chronologically. we only got to see them have a relationship as they were dying. why couldn’t they have been friends in life.

if a recorded conversation isn’t good enough for you, you’ll have to wait until s8e15. season 7 does not have a single woman in it. tεx and filss talk about pfl’s files. it’s not exactly an in depth back and forth and the conversation is shared with simmons and church but. it’s something. i think sheila and tex’s convo fits the spirit of the test a bit more but. let’s chalk it up to two conversations in the 8 seasons. fantastic.

all right, season 9 time. come on, a third of the main cast is women! that’s gotta bring our numbers up, right?

episode 1? no. 2? no. 3?

incredible! we have a conversation between female operative and pilot! just kidding. the wiki doesn’t name them bc they haven’t been named yet, but this is a conversation between carolina and niner! no funny business! just an actual conversation between woman! wow. only took us nine seasons to get to a point where i can confidently say something passes the bechdel test with no caveats. unless we look at the 60 second rule. then. oops.

but… wow! episode 4 has… THREE women? talking to each other? and then a fourth joins in? i thought it was a myth! being able to handle so many women on screen at once… they really did something special here. anyway, this episode is the first to pass with flying colors. i can’t time shut bc i don’t have the videos on hand but i’m certain this passes the 60 second mark. great work! if only it didn’t take you nine years to get to this point.

ugh. i had more written past this point but tumblr erased it and i don’t feel like fucking redoing it. i got to the point i wanted to so. maybe i’ll continue this later. would like to explore the rest of pfl and chorus. it’s impressive how well pfl manages to avoid having women actually speak to each other. they’ll literally be in the same conversation but never actually address each other. this happens multiple times.

[illumynare]

Red vs Blue Fic: Gift of the Magi (10/12)

Summary: Wash has already gone through too much, been broken too often. So when they get captured by Hargrove together, Tucker figures he has one job: until the cavalry shows up, keep Wash alive and (relatively) sane. No matter the cost.

Unfortunately, Wash is just as determined to protect him.

Parings: None. Warnings: Rated M. Canon-typical language, aftermath of canonical character death, psychological torture, hallucinations, hallucinated child harm, mentions of torture and suicide, fake-out character death.

Notes: Also available on AO3!

GUESS WHO'S BACK, BITCHES.

I am so so so sorry it took me this long to update. 2018 was........a difficult year for me, creatively. But I am writing again and determined to finish this story. Huge thanks to @a-taller-tale​ for being a sweetheart beta, @saltsanford for screaming supportively, and everyone who let kudos/comments during the interim.

###

It’s day twenty-three of the worst camping trip ever, and Tucker has had it up to here with Agent Washington and his paranoid hard-on for drills. 

(Not to mention his obsession with how they should all stay in their armor 24/7. So what if Tucker needs fresh air to sleep? Wash wouldn’t have to see him naked if he didn’t come storming into his room at the ass-crack of dawn to haul him out of bed.)

“This is bullshit,” Tucker grumbles, dropping into another squat.

“Keep counting,” Wash drones.

“Twenty—urgghh—three.” Tucker hauls himself back to his feet, glaring at Wash. “I can’t feel my toes anymore.”

“Come on, private. Freelancer’s rejects could do better than this.”

“No, duh. They were rejected super-soldiers. We were Freelancer’s target practice!”

“Huh,” Wash says dryly. “Well, that’s an idea.” He unholsters his rifle. 

Tucker rolls his eyes. “Ooh, scary.” 

The next moment he jumps as a bullet hits the dirt next to his foot. “What the fuck, man? Didn’t you give us a lecture about gun safety last night?”

“Rule two.” Wash’s voice is ice cold now, his rifle leveled at Tucker’s face. “Never point a firearm at anything you aren’t willing to destroy.”

His armor is gray again. How the hell didn’t Tucker notice before? And despite the bright sunlight there’s snow falling all around them in dizzying swirls, just like on Sidewinder.

Oh shit. Tucker can’t move.

“Time to run, private,” Wash says, but Tucker can’t move. “Three. Two. One—”

His voice suddenly cuts off with a loud record-scratch, at the same moment the snowflakes freeze in the air.

Yep, it’s me. Church flickers into existence, glowing blue and tiny, floating just a couple feet in front of Tucker’s face. I bet you’re wondering how we got here.

Tucker stares at him. “. . . the fuck?”

You’re dreaming, dumbass. Lucky for you, I can actually control your dreams when it’s your subconscious running them and not that fucking machine.

The only word in that speech that makes sense is machine, and even that Tucker’s not sure about. “But Freckles isn’t here yet,” he says.

Oh yeah, also? WAKE UP.

—and Tucker comes awake, thrashing and fighting the restraints for the second it takes his brain to boot up, for him to remember what’s happening and where he is.

It’s night. The room is empty, and dark except for the faint glow of the healing units over his and Wash’s beds. 

“Church?” he says aloud.

This better work, Sheila, Church calls, and then appears beside Tucker’s head. In the darkness, he glows like a nightlight. “Okay, Tucker. Do you trust me?”

“The fuck?” Tucker says again, echoing his dream, because Church never says shit like this.

“Yeah, bad question. Actually, there is no question. Do what I say if you want to live.”

“I’m chained to a fucking hospital bed, I’m not doing anything!”

“I know. Just—STAY on the bed.”

Tucker rolls his eyes, automatically tugging at the restraints. “Wow, kinky. Do you want me to call you ‘daddy’ too?”

Before Church can reply, the door slides open. The lights come on, blinding bright, and Tucker has to blink for a few seconds before he can see that it’s the lemon-faced scientist who kept putting him in the machine, three Charon soldiers behind her.

“Come with me,” she says, and Tucker’s brain hysterically finishes, if you want to live. 

Which is technically true; he’s pretty sure that the scientist wants him alive for testing purposes, and he’s positive that she’ll kill him if he doesn’t obey. But going with her means being put into that machine means getting killed by Wash again, and Tucker would have every reason to refuse her command even if Church hadn’t told him to stay put.

Not that he’s gonna get a choice. As Tucker thinks this, two of the soldiers step forward and start undoing the restraints, one working at his ankles and the other at his wrists.

The moment that the last strap unlatches, Church yells, “Now, FILSS!”

The doors slam shut.

It takes Tucker a moment to realize that something strange is happening. Automatic doors close all the time. But then Sheila says aloud, “Deploying defensive measures,” and there’s a hiss as a pale cloud billows in through the air ducts.

“Uh, sir?” says one of the soldiers, but the scientist is already at the door, fumbling at the keypad. When it doesn’t respond, she starts pounding against the door. “Open, damn you!” she yells, then staggers. And falls to the ground, as the rest of the soldiers do.

Tucker’s gasping for breath, a weird cocktail of terror and triumph pounding through his veins. He nearly jumps out of the hospital bed, because fuck yeah, they’re down for the count, and he doesn’t even care how it could have happened.

But Church is hovering in front of him, waving glowing arms. “Wait. WAIT.”

At the same time, Tucker hears the tinny, nearly-subsonic hum from overhead, notices the bright green glow, and suddenly it all comes together. Sheila piped in some kind of knockout gas, and the only reason Tucker’s still conscious is that the alien healing unit is scrubbing the stuff from his bloodstream as fast as he can inhale it.

That’s why Church told him to stay on the bed. Except Church is just a hallucination, so he couldn’t have possibly known because Tucker, didn’t know—unless—

“Church?” Tucker says, and he hates how his voice has gone small and wavering, but crazy as it is, he can’t help suddenly, desperately hoping that he isn’t alone, that—

“Okay, atmosphere back to normal, you can get off the bed,” says Church, as if he hadn’t heard him.

Tucker doesn’t move. He’s dizzy and numb and reeling with the sudden thought of maybe maybe maybe, and also at this point he’s so used to everything being a killer hallucination that it’s hard to care about what he actually does.

“Seriously, Tucker, get the fuck off that bed and unstrap Wash, we don’t have all day.”

It isn’t Church that gets Tucker moving, it’s the memory of the Freelancer video footage he watched, where Wash was strapped down to a bed and screaming. He slides off his bed and staggers over to Wash's bed. There’s still a weird, numb tingling in his fingers, and he fumbles with the straps for several minutes before he manages to get them undone.

In all the weird, fucked-up simulations that Tucker has experienced, Wash was never like this: still and unconscious and silent, limp as Tucker hauls him up into the rescue carry that once upon a time Wash made Tucker and Caboose practice back in the canyon.

In all the simulations, Tucker had never been able to help Wash.

“What now?” Tucker asks Church, because why not trust the hallucination? (Why not believe that Church is really still alive somehow?)

“Go out into the hallway,” says Church. “There’s a storage closet five hundred feet to your left.”

Tucker does. He finds the door, and it swings open at a touch—Sheila? Church? A fucking miracle? He doesn’t care, just pulls it shut behind him and eases Wash to the ground.

He hears the lock snick shut behind him. “Now what?” he asks.

Church doesn’t appear again. But he whispers into Tucker’s mind, Now we just gotta have faith.

#

Faith is fucking boring.

That’s Tucker’s conclusion, twenty minutes or maybe fifty hours into waiting, he has no way to keep track and he really doesn’t care. However long it’s been, it sucks to sit here in the dark, waiting for rescue because a hallucination told him to.

Wash woke up once. He snorted, and clawed at Tucker’s face a little. When Tucker shook him and said, The others are coming to get us, he launched into a series of weird, slurred apologies before he passed out again.

Which left Tucker alone.

And bored.

Church isn’t talking to him anymore. Tucker’s tried talking to him, again and again, but he never responds. 

Of course he doesn’t, because Church doesn’t really exist. Except how did Tucker’s hallucination know what Sheila was planning to do? How did he know where Tucker and Wash could hide? What the fuck is going on?

Sirens go off, muffled through the door. Then they stop. Tucker hears a clatter of footsteps and gunfire, and then that stops.

Then the door slams open.

It takes a moment for Tucker’s eyes to adjust to the sudden rush of light. A moment before he sees who wrenched the door open.

It’s Carolina. She stands over him with a plasma rifle in each hand, an AI glowing over each shoulder. As much as Tucker's tried to avoid knowing anything about Church's fragments, he recognizes these two: the green one is Delta, Caboose's special buddy, and the red-gold one is Sigma, who Wash and Carolina thought might go crazy and evil for some reason.

Apparently Carolina isn't worried about that anymore.

“Can you walk?” she asks.

Tucker finds his voice, scrambling to his feet. “Duh,” he says. “How do you think we got here?”

He reaches for Wash at the same time Carolina does. Neither of them draws back, and for a moment he wonders wildly if they’re going to get into a tug-of-war.

Then Delta says, “I calculate an increased 57.8% chance of success if we allow Tucker to carry Agent Washington.”

Sigma flares brighter. “Agent Carolina, you excel at maneuvers that require maneuverability and speed.”

Carolina hesitates another second, but then she draws back, nodding in agreement.

“Don’t fall behind,” she tells Tucker, and turns away.

“That’s what she said!” Tucker says automatically, hauling Wash up into the rescue carry again. He staggers back out into the hallway after her, and then he doesn’t really have time to think of anything except how heavy Wash is, and how terrifying Carolina is. 

He’d known that she’d had two AI fragments back in Project Freelancer, but he hadn’t realized what a difference it made—not until now, when she charges a squad of Charon soldiers, grabs one by the leg, and swings him so precisely that the soldier's shots at her take out all his teammates instead, what the fuck.

It’s honestly really hot.

Then they run into Red Team plus a bunch of New Republic soldiers; Tucker has never been so happy to see Simmons or Palomo in his life. Apparently there’s a larger operation against Hargrove going on, now that Sheila has told them where his ship is hiding, but this team is tasked with just getting him and Wash back to safety. They immediately hustle them into a Pelican, and it’s great, Tucker is so relieved—

Except once he’s strapped in and the acceleration has slammed him into his seat, the memories are suddenly back with a vengeance. It’s too much like the time they were rescued and Wash killed him, the time that Tucker absolutely deserved to be killed because he had—he had—

“Where’s Junior?” Tucker blurts out, before he can get even more afraid.

"Junior? " Grif says blankly. Tucker's heart stops.

It's not real, he tells himself, but his brain is working too well and his memories are too whole for him to believe this is a simulation now. And Church is silent in his skull. Whatever Grif says next, Tucker will have to live with, and if—if—

"Isn't he still at that dumb prep school you won't shut up about?" Grif says.

And shit, Tucker thinks he might be crying, but it doesn't matter. Junior's okay. His kid is okay.

He doesn’t even mind the silence where Church once was. Tucker can stand anything, as long as Junior’s okay.