For when the whump ideas in my head need to LEAVE

“I have no reproach concerning your taking over my position. Only concerns.”

The relieved lowering of her shoulders stops mid-move. She sighs.

“You always have concerns, Zero.”

He almost chides her for her tone. It’s no longer his prerogative, technically, but it’s not like he’ll stop watching their behaviour. The client can say as he like: once they’re back to the base, Zero will get his responsibilities back and it will be easier if he pays attention now.

“I’ve noticed your hesitation when giving orders. When giving me orders.”

He’s always watched her – the rest of the team, as well – and since James asked him if they could consider putting Twelve in charge, he’s watched her even closer.

From their team, she’s probably the most competent for the position. She doesn’t hesitate to yell out a command when in action, she’s diplomatic – but not afraid to speak her mind – in meetings. She’s positive, managing to motivate her teammates in a way Zero has never even tried.

Twelve is also a lot more social, which he can concede is helpful in her new position. The position was meant to help with teamwork, making sure both teams would collaborate well and learn from each other. Zero can acknowledge it is better to put in charge someone who can have casual conversation with every member of both teams.

Which is not him.

There is, however, one problem.

“You seem to struggle with giving me commands.”

Systematically adding could or would to her requests – because those couldn’t be called orders, really – sometimes a please or a thank you. He has enough experience to guess what she wants from him, but sometimes she tries something novel enough that Zero has to look for her directions and she hesitates.

It’s dangerous, both on and off the field.

He’s not really expecting to fail, but if he did and Twelve had to correct him and didn’t, for any reasons, it would spell her end. There are implications in refusing to correct a fellow weapon none of his teammates thought about, Zero knows.

Twelve tries to deny but he only has to raise an eyebrow in her direction. She’s not that unaware. He pushes a little further.

“Do you think I won’t follow your commands?”

The way she scowls at the floor says a lot of things she never will. He knows the rest of his team struggles a bit more with the amount of control they’re under.

“I know you will.” Twelve sounds bitter. “That’s the problem.”

Zero tilts his head to the side.

“It’s- It feels wrong. You’re.... Zero. You’re in charge. I hate-” She cuts herself off and turns away. “It shouldn’t be like this.”

Clients are in charge unless on base, where a handler’s authority overrules anything short of an emergency.

James has been kind enough that he doesn’t correct her.

“I’ve had the same training as you, Twelve.” Amongst others. “You’ve seen me follow directions from handlers, too.”

Not as often as the rest of them because some people love describing their problems at length – listening to the sound of their own voice – and having him figure out how to turn that into concise orders for the team. So, the rest of them wait at down and Zero plays soldier.

“I don’t like it then, either.”

He also doesn’t need the reminders as much as them – he doesn’t say, because it always pisses off his team somehow. He doesn’t have their… reservations about orders. Handlers – most of them, anyway – behave accordingly. Even when in a mood, they know he’s not the one to go after when they’re looking to let off steam.

Maybe that’s the issue, Twelve assuming he’ll find following her commands humiliating. His teammates tend to extend their feelings to him.

She continues to scowl, muttering something he wouldn’t let fly on base about handlers.

“Let’s run through basic commands. It’ll help.”

Twelve’s jaw clenches and she only scowls harder at the floor. It had helped him practice ordering people around – running through drills alone, speaking commands at himself.

She has a different issue, but he imagines it’ll help, still.

“Let’s go. The next option is not doing anything unless you command it and I don’t think you’d enjoy that.” 

She’s still scowling when he drops to his knees in front of her. It’ll force her to use up and then Zero hopes she’ll cycle through the commands almost out of habit. It should be instinct, or something like that, if the conditioning has been done properly – and it has.

He forces his body into relaxed, unsuitable posture. The first command is mumbled but the rhythm is familiar, and he falls back into it immediately.

Down.

Up.

Ease.

Guard.

Crouch.

Come.

Drop.

Freeze.

On and on without Zero ever having to think. His body moves on its own, to the point where he has to still a few times – Twelve stutters some of the commands and it wouldn’t be helpful if he did things before she asked just because he knows the arrangement.

She skips some of them, for reasons he can guess at but not understand. He at least makes sure to keep his expression blank – it throws him off a little but it’s not like the cycle absolutely must be followed.

Zero only really stops when she apologises – hands reaching for a holster he doesn’t have. Twelve doesn’t look better, just resigned. She looks down at him and sighs, something tired – sad? Or angry? He’s not quite sure – in her eyes.

There’s no way she’ll be able to correct him, if it comes to it. No way in hell.

He’ll do what he can to guess her intentions and not fail but if it comes to it, they’re definitely better off with him redirecting the correction, as always.

“Good enough. Did it help?”

Twelve says no but the denial is already a sign of her growing confidence. She was good at making her displeasure or disagreement known, telling him to fuck off was new.

Either his idea had worked or their latest client was working his magic – and giving them terrible habits Zero would struggle to fight off.

“Are we done?”

She starts to head for the door when he nods, looking back when he doesn’t follow her. He raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not telling you to get up, Zero. That’s- No.”

He waits a while longer to see if she’ll come back but she doesn’t. James calls his name from the corridor, and he pushes himself up slowly.