Wash's voice echoes out of the dark and Maine lets out a shaky breath of relief. Wash is okay. He was taken, but he's okay. They found him.

"Yeah," Maine grunts out, quickly moving forward. "And Brigitte," he adds, so that Wash won't be alarmed if he sees her. Last thing they need is for Wash to think that the woman is that clone-thing they defeated earlier.

Maine's device provides enough light that, when he tilts his hand, he's able to get a decent look at Wash. The other man looks like shit, but he's responsive and whole. It could be worse. Fuck, it could be so much worse.

Maine kneels down in front of his friend and reaches for the ropes. Touches them gently, one big hand briefly covering Wash's.

"Hold still," he says. Then he pulls the blood-encrusted knife from its place at his lower back so that he can cut through the bonds.