For when the whump ideas in my head need to LEAVE

A handler won’t care but an officer will and since the timing of the visit is unusual, it’s best to be prepared. Late as it is, most probably wouldn’t see if they slumped a little but Zero knows at least one who would and takes the time to correct Fifteen.

Seventeen looks hesitant. He’s dropped to the floor, but he shuffles around, trying to leave space between the wall and him without crashing into Fifteen.

Oh.

“I don’t kneel for these.”

It doesn’t help with the man’s confusion but Zero doesn’t have the time to explain.

“Hands.”

He corrects Seventeen’s posture and settles in front of them, back straight. Zero faces the door, trying to figure out what this could be.

It’s not quite time for maintenance and handlers wouldn’t bother to come all the way to inventory just to inform the team they’ve been deployed – especially at such an hour. Similarly, an inspection wouldn’t take place so late - corrections wouldn’t take place so late, unless something major had happened.

The door opens and the commander – ah. – throws a trainee in.

“Down, Zeta.”

The trainee shuffles into a mostly correct position. It’s not mindless yet – too recent, perhaps, or trained by a sloppy instructor. He gets a look at her face and re-evaluates – maybe too injured.

He takes a step forward, subtly putting himself between her and the commander. They don’t have time to deal with the man’s obsessive tendencies. If he examines the trainee – or Seventeen, or Fifteen – and decides to fix all the things he finds lacking, the night will be too long. It’s too late for correction, and the longer it’d last, the worst things would get – the trainee looks on edge, which would not help, either.

Zero’s step makes the commander look at him, squinting. He’s examined for a while, holding perfectly still. The commander finally speaks.

“New piece for your team. Close combat. Healing enhancement. Get a standard kit and explain, Zero.”

The commander rolls his eyes when he answers, muttering something under his breath. He rolls his shoulder, frame visibly tense. Not happy to be working so late, probably.

His eyes scan the room, looking for blemishes he won’t find. Zero has been taking care of it for decades at this point, the room is perfectly maintained – except for that stubborn spot he couldn’t get rid of and has to hide behind the coats.

As always, the commander is thorough, his expression pinched. His jaw is clenched, and Zero can’t remember the last time he saw the man so frustrated. The commander is practically scowling, looking for something he could use to justify a correction at this hour, to this team. He clacks his teeth, eyes turning to Zero’s teammates.

Zero shifts, ostentatiously stilling when the commander zeroes in on him. He’s squinting again, angry and with a slight quirk to his lips. There’s no suspicion in his eyes, only something vaguely satisfied.

“Down.”

Zero doesn’t bother with grace – it’s not the slow, perfected movements he uses during maintenance. The commander obviously just wants something to let out some steam and thinking Zero needs to be reconditioned will be very satisfying.

Also, he’s spent enough time with the man to know he prefers speed – grace means taking more time to obey, means taking things easier, means the response isn’t automatic. Weapons aren’t trained to be pretty, they’re trained to obey.

“Something wrong with you, Zero?”

He steps closer, tilting his head to the side when Zero answers. Zero keeps his eyes on the floor, between the commander’s shoes.

“…Zeta isn’t cleared to move on base alone yet. Fetch the kit, give the necessary explanations and come to my office for maintenance, Zero.”

“Yes, sir.”

The commander harrumphs, waving his hand vaguely before leaving. The door slams closed behind him with another beep.

Zero stands up first, glancing at the trainee. He extends a hand, the rest of the team already stepping closer.

“Up. The others will explain, I’ll answer the questions they can’t.”

She’s at least fed enough, and her grip is firm. She doesn’t limp when he walks her to the others, but her breaths are a little short – injury or emotion, he can’t say. She scowls at the floor, and her eyes are dark the only time they meet his.

“Set up a new cot. I’ll return shortly.”

Seventeen nods and he barely acknowledges it, already heading for the reserve. It’s not far but since it’ll take Zero some time to gather everything, they have a good amount of time for explanations.

The others are already exchanging looks – the ones he can never decipher – surrounding the trainee as they guide her to one of the cots, voices softer than usual.

They’re back to normal when he returns, Seventeen sending a small smile his way. He acknowledges the gesture, turning to the trainee. She looks appraising and exchanges a look with the others.

“We’ll go over the kit tomorrow. Any questions? Anything to say?”

He tries to give permissions subtly – sometimes the instructors are a bit too broad when teaching silence, and trainees don’t speak to him – thinking quickly. The trainee shakes her head and he nods, already turning around – the kit shoved behind the nearest door.

“Lights out, then. No need to wait for me.”

“But you won’t be allowed…”

The atmosphere suddenly grows cold and he sighs. They should just accept the sleep. Tomorrow will feel long enough as it is.

“I’ll withstand it. I have the training. Seventeen, Fifteen. Zeta.”

He takes the time to give her a short nod. It’s not the best first impression he’s made but it’s far from the worst – being introduced by correcting a new batch had been hard and gaining trust afterwards impossible.

“It’s Twelve, sir.”

Zero flinches, eyes darting to above the door. Fifteen quickly shakes his head, slapping his hand over her mouth. As insincere as she sounds, this can’t happen again. They’re lucky it’s as late as it is, and Zero is as known as he is. At this hour, whoever is watching probably focuses on the new batches, maybe the few units known for misdemeanours – not on Zero’s.

Any other times someone would have been listening and they’d be – receiving correction the like of which Zero has rarely seen, probably.

God, if she had done this in front of the commander. He finds Seventeen’s eyes.

“Explain again. And then lights out.” Then he meets Twelve’s. “Twelve. Not to me.”