Zenyatta is too loud and barely audible at the same time, as Wash tries to remember which set of memories is real, remember how to breathe, remember anything that isn't constantly in flux or out of his grasp-

(Though he eventually starts breathing in time with Zenyatta's instructions, without realizing it, and it does help.)

Part of him wants to believe Zenyatta's words - it's the part of him that remembers going on missions, holding movie nights, teaching the younger Legionnaires how to fight, and tracking down friends to make sure they were okay. The other part refuses outright - how could anyone see a warrior and a protector in a selfish, broken tool?

It doesn't make sense. None of this makes any fucking sense.

Somehow, Zenyatta's admission makes it through the deadlock in his thought process, and he pauses and just stares at the omnic. "Subtle," he says, because sarcasm is virtually automatic for him at this point, though right now his tone is mild. "Do you run over everyone you want to help, or am I just lucky?"

Banter is easy to fall into; after all, according to one set of memories, he's done this before. Zenyatta is a friend. And unlike everything else in his wrecked and conflicting memories, Zenyatta is here.

The walls waver and flicker again, offering glimpses of the void beyond, but Wash's gaze never strays from Zenyatta.