#ct-7386

Before the fight with Cory that brought him to Fox's attention, 86 was reaching the end of his rope; he was beginning to think about suicide

Most of his deals with the natborns are simple trades of information, exotic flowers, and favors (i.e. retrieving/collecting blackmail material; running errands; ferrying other illegal/dubious items around the Rotunda; etc.). However, if he needs to get ahold of something more valuable and/or the natborn in question is more corrupt, Wren/86 will trade himself

Commander Stone comms:

"Sir, I have a situation down in Lock Up. Two of our troopers got into a fight with each other, and they won't tell me anything. I know you're busy prepping for that upcoming gala, but..." His grimace is audible, and his volume drops slightly. "I have a feeling this won't be pretty. Can you spare any time for this osik, sir?"

Vod drama sounds like it might be just what he needs to break himself out of the monotony of his current work, so he decides it can't hurt. "I'm on my way." It takes a short while on foot, but he needs the exercise and to expend the energy he, like his vode, was created to have. When he arrives, he's let through without much hassle. After all, he's easily recognizable. "Where's the idiots?"

Stone takes off his bucket and runs a hand over his head. He gestures at two of the holding cells. "Here, sir. When they wouldn't break it up, I had them forcibly separated and thrown in the cells." He steps forward and raps on the dome of his helmet. "Attention, men!"

The clones in each cell snap-to, each with their bucket set to the side on the uncomfortable looking cots.

"Because of your ridiculous behavior, Commander Fox has deigned to address this problem himself." His eyes are narrowed, but there's a tightness around them that betrays his quiet worry. It's just not normal for there to be in-fighting among the older troops.

"With everything the Coruscant Guard has to deal with, you want to add each other to that list?" Fox barks, his tone every bit the reason his men stand at attention when he enters the room. "Who here is going to tell me what's going on first? Because you're both going to, or I'll have you working in such close quarters you won't have a choice but to learn to get along."

The clone in the cell to the right instantly bristles and tenses.

"Work with it?!" He gestures to the wall that separates them. "This shabuir, aruetii, vod-killer!?!"

The entire room stills.

It stills indeed. A vod betraying their own is nigh unheard of, especially in the Coruscant Guard. All they have is each other. Most won't even speak against a vod to save their own lives, even when wrongfully accused.

Fox eventually breaks the silence, looking to the accused, but not speaking to him. His gaze is suspicious, untrusting. Do they have a vod-killer among them? "Those are some heavy accusations, vod. Explain yourself."

The trooper in question stands stiff and almost unnaturally still, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes hyper-focused on Fox's lower face.

"... It was," he finally grits out, "information shared in confidence - a mistake, apparently, and no one's business but my own. Sir. Corporal Cory" - the other trooper, then - "holds a personal grudge against me, and today it interfered with my duties. Not only has he betrayed the trust I had in him, but he could have put the lives of every trooper present at risk."

Corporal Cory looks ready to throw himself at the energy barrier in the door to his cell to confront the yet-unnamed trooper. He is livid. "I betrayed your trust? What about the trust of your vode, huh? What about the ones you -"

At the last second he bites back his words - a surprising show of restraint, given the situation. And yet, every vod in the room feels chills at what the corporal has just implied.

The unnamed trooper swallows and closes his eyes briefly as if to gather himself. "I confronted Corporal Cory," he says quietly, "about his actions. Our argument got... heated. That's when Commander Stone was forced to intervene. Sir."

There's a tired sort of anguished resignation that hangs over the trooper. He's willing to accept whatever his punishment will be if it will keep him from having to relive the past all over again. He just hopes everyone will leave well enough alone.

"You're glossing over pertinent information, trooper," Fox tells him, his tone holding a warning. "Did you kill a vod? Do I need to worry about my men around you?" It's clear he's dodging the subject, but Fox's aim is better than most. He always keeps his eye on the target.

While he may view the vod as a danger currently, there's still no question he would protect him. Vod-killer or not, he's one of the Coruscant Guard, one of them. He just has to know what to do with him, like separate him from the others if necessary.

The look of anguish intensifies for a brief moment before the trooper replaces it with a blank mask. "The only danger I pose is to myself, sir. As for the pertinent information..."

He grinds his jaw, frantically searching for a way to answer the indirect order while maintaining some dignity.

"It was on Kamino," he says at last, voice painfully small; he seems to fold slightly in on himself, as if the weight of his words is almost too much. The trooper swallows. His voice is slightly ragged as he finishes, "It was a - a mercy kill."

There's a moment where the air echoes with the silence, and then he's straightening once again wearing that mask.

"With all due respect, sir, it was a long time ago and has no bearing on the current situation or my performance as a soldier of the Republic. Corporal Cory took the few facts he had and blew them out of proportion." The corporal does look a little guilty. "I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary for my actions, sir, and for lying by omission, but I request that you not alter my duties in any way. I'm the only clone with my specific qualifications, sir, and my skills are needed in the Senate building almost constantly. On top of that, there are still a couple senators I need to contact to finish smoothing over the ruffled feathers the corporal caused with his... overreaction earlier."

A mercy kill. Questions need to be asked, specifically whether or not the deceased vod requested his "mercy". Otherwise, it was unforgivable, merciful or not. It would be merciful to kill them all, to put them all out of their misery, but it's their choice whether they live or die. Most would rather live so they wouldn't have to be replaced by another innocent vod. They survive and fight through the osik for each other.

Fox wants to ask the question where the others can hear the answer, hoping it will clear it all up, but--

"Senators?" His ire is turned on the other trooper. "You started a fight in front of senators? Do you have any idea what danger you put us all in? Fresher duty. A month's worth. If I hear one complaint, I'll extend it another month." Fox needs the senators to feel safe around them, not wonder when the unstable brutes will snap. The more on edge they are around them, the more likely they will be to have them reconditioned for the tiniest mishaps.

Somewhat surprisingly, the unnamed trooper hesitates slightly and shifts in place. "With - With all due respect, sir, Corporal Cory knows better than to start a fight in front of the senators. He just - I'm a translator, sir, and the corporal interfered with my work and nearly caused a diplomatic incident without really understanding what it was he was doing. I confronted him because he knows better than to interfere with my work yet did it anyway because of our petty rivalry. He didn't - He didn't mean to, not really."

“He knew what he was doing. He knew the senators were there.” It is, however, reassuring that he’s trying so hard to protect a vod. There is definitely more to his background than he’s made known.

The trooper straightens. “Understood, sir. And my punishment?”

He knows he played his own part in this debacle. There were ways he could have deescalated the situation sooner; he could have requested a transfer to another squad when Cory became a problem months ago; he could have not started a fight with Cory afterwards - hell, he could have not told Cory anything. That would have been a fantastic idea.

And now - Now he’ll feel obligated to go to Commander Fox, a man he has barely seen since being stationed with the Guard, and explain this all to him against his own better judgement. What a kriffing disaster.

"An explanation. Whether your past affects your work with the Guard is up to me, not you. Do you understand? We can discuss it in private." Besides, from what he can tell, Cory started the fight, not the other vod.

Fox gestures to his cell, a silent order to release him so they can go elsewhere. He obviously doesn't want to divulge what happened to the others.

Commander Stone follows the silent order and presses a button on his vambrace, and the barrier in the trooper's cell disappears.

The trooper himself snaps a slightly shaky salute. "Yes, sir!" He turns and tucks his bucket under his arm and steps out of his cell, very deliberately not looking at any of the other vode in the room. Then he walks to stand in front of Fox, waiting to be led to - what he sees as - his inevitable doom.

"To my office, trooper. March," Fox orders. In his office, they can't be monitored by curious members of the Guard. At least there's no one in the building brave enough to press their ear to his door.

The trooper quickly marches out of the room, all-too aware of the Commander behind him. He leads the way briskly down the halls all the way to Commander Fox's office where he waits at the door.

His own professional, yet more casual, stride beside him tells witnesses that the trooper is in trouble, a walk of shame. At his door, Fox relieves him of that humiliation, "At ease..." before he opens the door.

Once inside, Fox pries the helmet from his head and sets it on his desk. He then seats himself behind the desk and gestures to the chairs opposite his own. "Have a seat. What's your name, trooper? Do you have one yet?" Not every clone has a name. Sometimes, they're just too attached to their designations and, other times, they just haven't found the right one.

He takes a seat but hesitates to answer the question. "I..." The trooper swallows and looks down at the helmet in his lap. "I go by my designation, sir. CT-7386, or sometimes just 86. I gave up any right I had to a name back on Kamino. I don't -" His voice drops almost to a pained whisper, and he sort of starts to curl around his bucket. "I don't deserve one after what I did."

This vod is not a cold-blooded killer, nor does Fox believe he has it in him to kill a vod without being coerced into it by that vod. The guilt is clearly eating him up inside. The ori'vod, which is what he is to most of his vode, in Fox is making him want to comfort him. He resists the urge to hug him, but not to use his words. "What happened, 86? Look at you, vod. You need to tell someone..."

His eyes snap up to Fox, wide and terrified. "Sir, I - I can't. You would - You would never look at me the same, sir. I'm already isolated from the rest of the Guard, already defective, and now they know -"

86 shudders and curls even tighter around his bucket as if for comfort. It was an order, he reminds himself. This is my punishment, so I just gotta take it. He forces himself to open his mouth and begin speaking even though he refuses to straighten and look at the Commander. 86 doesn't want to see the disgust in Fox's eyes.

"We - We were an experimental batch, sir. The Kaminiise wanted to see what would happen if they tried enhancing our senses beyond perfect hearing and 20/20 vision. Only, because they'd never done it before, a lot went wrong, and they kept us mostly isolated from the others in order to keep studying us."

His breath hitches slightly, and he tightens his grip on his bucket.

"Not all of us survived. We were down to six by the time we learned only I would ever be deployed, the others kept in the labs. And we couldn't - We were afraid. We didn't want to live like that, didn't want to be test subjects, didn't want to live that waking nightmare anymore. So 7301, our second youngest, he came up with this - this crazy plan: stage an accident that would kill us. Only - Only we needed one to stay alive so that someone would remember we had ever existed. They chose -" His voice breaks, and his eyes burn. "They chose me, because I was the only one who could be reassigned and deployed. So I - I sabotaged the program on our training deck. I killed them - all of them."

As he listens, he tries to put himself in 86’s place. The pain he would have felt, not only from the experimentation, but from watching his vode suffer too.

As far as clones go, Fox has always been privileged, selected for the ARC training program, encouraged to embrace his individuality, and given power over his vode. It might be hard at times, but he’s never been experimented on extensively or used as cannon fodder.

Still, he knows what it’s like to suffer, to want to be free from his suffering, and what it’s like to love his brothers so much he’s willing to endure anything for them. If his vode came to him, in pain, desperate for release from this life, would he kill them?

…Yes.

He leans over his desk, that little bit closer to his vod. “You didn’t kill them…You set them free…”

86 laughs bitterly. “Freed them - and enslaved the next poor bastards the Kaminiise decided to continue the experiments on. I know there were others who ‘benefited’ from the results we produced. Freed them?”

Another laugh, though this one he chokes on. He finally looks up, revealing the tears rolling down his cheeks and the absolutely broken look in his eyes.

“That’s not what the ghosts in my head say.”

"Yeah, well, those ghosts aren't your vode. They are thankful." As much as he would love to lay a hand on his vod's shoulder to comfort him, he stays put and lets the sympathy show in his eyes alone.

"You're not responsible for what the Kaminiise do..."

86 shakes his head and scrubs the tears from his face. "I know that logically, but that will never change the fact that my batch was killed by their ori'vod." He sniffs a little and straightens. "Is there anything else you'd like to know, sir?"

"Like they wanted," he insists. It was almost cruel of them to ask 86 to do it, leaving him to live with the crushing guilt. He wasn't handling it well at all. "We don't have any licensed therapists in the Guard, but our medics are willing and able to act as one if you need them to. You also have me. You've really twisted it in your head to make yourself a bad guy when you're not." It's the pot calling the kettle black, and Fox can't see it.

His next huff is supposed to be bitter again, but it comes out just so tired. “With all due respect, sir, I’ve been with the Guard just as long as you have - you’re only a dozen or so batches older than I am, even. This begs a couple questions.”

86’s eyes harden just slightly, more in suspicion and vague distrust than actual anger.

“First, don’t think I haven’t seen just how hard you are on yourself, so, with respect, don’t ask me to do something you wouldn’t. I know exactly how responsible you feel for all of us, and even though I could never imagine the amount of work you’re doing, I know it’s way worse than any of my own problems.

“Second, I’ve managed this long just fine. It took a vod betraying my trust and then having to admit my recurring nightmares under duress for anyone to give a kriff. I don’t see what will change now that I’ve bared my soul.” Okay, that might have come out just a little upset.

“And finally, again with all due respect, but -” His walls once again crumble, eyes bright with tears he refuses to shed, voice hitching with the raw emotion held back purely by strength of will, “why has no one cared before?”

Before Commander Fox can answer, 86 is holding up a hand to stop him.

“No. No, I’m sorry. That -” He swallows, blinks away the shine in his eyes. “I know you’re busy. I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. I know everyone else is busy too. And I work every day in the Senate Building with no one except the natborns; the only time I see vode is when I come back to HQ to sleep.” 86 laughs incredulously. “I don’t - I don’t even know who the medics are? I don’t” - He blinks, brow scrunched in mild confusion and distress. “I don’t think I’ve been to the medbay since our mandatory exams when we were first stationed here…”

Fox doesn't tolerate much blatant disrespect, but he knows what 86 is going through at the moment. When emotions take hold, they're uncontrollable, torturous, until they're finally unleashed like a violent storm. It always ends the same, always. The tears come, shining in his vod's eyes. Again, he's assaulted with the nearly irresistible urge to hold him through it. That isn't Fox, though. He can't risk that sort of bond only for it to be broken by their rank imbalance.

"With all due respect, vod...which is every ounce I've shown you, when was the last time you told anyone the whole story? You hide your pain so well, apparently better than I do," he chuckles, a tinge of bitterness to his laughter, "so how was anyone supposed to know you were suffering? Let your vode know. They will care. They will support you.

If you don't mind, I'd like to recommend our CMO, Paws...and my personal "therapist", Thorn." Yes, he does talk to someone, as much as he's comfortable doing so at least. It helps that they're married in the Mandalorian tradition. "They're both more understanding than you ever thought a vod could be. No matter what you tell them, they'll try to see it from your point of view."

86 blinks, eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry, sir,” he stammers, head ducking in shame. If Fox is talking to someone… maybe he should, too. “If you think this is what’s best, I’ll - I can try.”

He worries at his bottom lip with his teeth while he thinks.

"I think... I think I can try talking to Paws? I - I know I need to visit medbay soon, anyway. This one senator -" He stops himself. "Maybe a story better saved for Paws," he mumbles. Yeah. Yeah, he can see what Fox means about talking to someone.

He inhales deeply, closing his eyes and centering himself before releasing the air slowly and steadily.

"I've never told anyone the whole story. Corporal Cory was... He's in my squad. I had a nightmare and woke him up a couple months ago. When he asked me about it, I was... I was shaken." He's ashamed of it, really, but nothing can be changed now. “Without thinking I admitted it was about my batch and how I’d caused their deaths, but that was it. He - He blew everything out of proportion. So, yeah. No one really - really knows.”

Another measured in-out of breath.

“And you’re wrong, sir: I don’t hide my pain all that well.” 86’s smile is wry, his tone self-deprecating. “It seems I’m just really good at hiding myself.” He swallows. “I know I’m not around the vode a lot just by nature of my duties, but - I could have made more of an effort to reach out to them.” He can - He can maybe still try. Maybe. Just - later. When he can think about this all clearly.

Once again he squares his shoulders and straightens. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask, sir? Or have I fulfilled the parameters of my punishment adequately?”

“There’s one last thing I’d like you to try… A mediated conversation between you and Cory. I know he was cruel, but think about what he thinks you did. It’s unheard of. He’s shocked. If he just knew…” he tries. Cory is a vod, so he can’t be completely unreasonable, can he? Honestly, Fox wonders if anyone outside of 86’s guilt ridden mind could possibly interpret what he did as cold-blooded murder. 86 is clearly a victim in what happened too, he just didn’t have the merciful release of death after it all.

That in mind, he really admires this vod. It would be too easy to swallow his blaster, but he’s chosen to stick around and keep his position filled so another vod doesn’t have to suffer through it. After Fixit, Fox knows all of the vode who suffer with suicidal ideation have been struggling to find the strength. He knows because he’s one of them. With 86’s background, he must be so much stronger than all of them, most of which are just victims of Coruscant.

The moment 86 hears Cory's name, he tenses hard. After a long moment he grits out, "As long as you're the one to mediate, sir, I think I can do it. I still - I still wanna shoot him for that stunt he pulled in front of the senators earlier. He could have gotten all of us killed. Thankfully, the senators I was translating for were easily persuaded to ignore the incident," he grimaces.

"Here, there's a good chance he will be shot because someone hates clones so much they can't bear to see us live. You don't want to wonder if your hatred for him was petty when he's already gone, vod. Trust me." It's always the ones who were arguing with the victims that cry the most when they're gone. "I'll mediate."

86 looks away guiltily. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” He hasn’t known hardly any of the vode lost to Coruscant, and it’s not exactly a lesson he wants to learn any time soon. He’ll talk to Cory. 86 looks back at the Commander. “If you’re too busy, sir, I’m sure someone else you trust can mediate. And -” He hesitates. “I think the rest of the squad should be there, too.”

“I’ll make the time. You bring whoever you’re ready to tell.” Besides, he already knows what happened, so he’ll be able to correct course if 86’s self-loathing gets in the way and he portrays himself as a heartless killer.

86 honestly feels a short rush of relief at knowing the Commander will be there. Having someone, anyone, standing next to him while he bares his soul to the most recent vode he feels he has wronged will help give him the strength he needs to get through this.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready,” he hedges, “but I - They deserve to know the truth.” The truth of why I’ve basically abandoned them, too. “Just name the time and place, sir. We’ll be there.”

"Will three days be enough time for you to plan your wording?" He doesn't want to rush him, but he also wants to pull it off like an adhesive bandage. Three days just seems like a good in-between. Besides, the longer he waits, the more time he'll have to convince himself it's a bad idea. At least that's how Fox's brain works.

86 receives a comm in the late afternoon, a few hours before the end of his shift.

CT-7386,

Meet me in my office once your shift is over.

Commander Thire

He swallows nervously and returns his attention to the hallway he’s walking down on his way to the last senator to have requested him for the day. What could his commanding officer want him for? Have I done something wrong?

Finally, when the sun has set and the sky is bright with the traffic and business of a city that never sleeps, 86 trudges back from the Rotunda and through Guard Headquarters. It’s long after most of his vode will have had late-meal, and he can only hope that the commander won’t be too upset about him showing up so late.

86 hesitates in front of Thire’s office door. He reaches up and slips off his bucket - mostly so that he’ll have something in his hands to give him something to fidget with. Then, with a slightly shaky breath, he knocks on the door and steps inside when it opens.

“C-Commander Thire, sir?” he asks, voice quiet to hide how it wants to tremble. “I - I’m sorry it’s s-so late, sir.”

The office is dimly lit, and only the data pads illuminate the commander. Thire looks up from his work and gestures for the trooper to take a seat in front of his chair. "Don‘t worry about it. Have you eaten yet?"

He gets up and walks around the table to switch the overhead light on, "I haven‘t eaten yet, so if you don‘t mind we can have some together."

86 sits, bucket clutched in his lap. “No sir, I haven’t - haven’t eaten yet. My shift only j-just ended.”

Of course, he’s so tense and anxious that he doesn’t know if he can stomach food, even an unappetizing ration bar, but who is he to tell a commander no?

Thire hums softly and places reheated mess food in front of the trooper. He may have planned this and purposely not eaten so far. He sits down behind his own desk, "Do you have a name yet?"

Fox told him about this particular case, but he wants to offer the other some control over the situation by asking a few simple questions.

Suddenly 86 is afraid he knows what this is about. Every moment of the last week runs quickly across his vision like a holofilm, and he sees his confrontation with Cory and his confession to Fox all over again. It sends a dull throb through his skull, and he bites back a wince.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, unable to look up from the food; nausea swims in his gut, though he can’t pinpoint the exact source. “I don’t - I go by my n-number, sir, or 86.”

He takes a breath meant to steady him. “I don’t - I don’t know what the Commander told you,” 86 glances up to check if his suspicions are correct, “but I don’t deserve a name.” Quieter, more to himself, he adds, “It’s not like - like anyone would use it anyway.”

Thire gets up and walks around to 86. He leans against his desk and searches for 86‘ glance, "What Fox told me was that it was our collective failure that we didn‘t realize you were struggling earlier. And he‘s certainly right about that."

Quietly he adds, "Having a name means that you are your own person, 86. A person who has a past, hopes, dreams and fears. It means that you have a personality. That there are things you like and don‘t like. You deserve a name because you are someone. Someone who matters. And that‘s why you get to have a name and choose it for yourself."

It‘s been a while since he told someone that. Thire does feel ashamed that he never properly checked how his men were holding up. He promised himself to be better years ago and he needs to act on it.

He holds his helmet tight to his chest. “I have a - a past, and I have fears, but - th-those are all I have.” Tears begin to burn at the backs of his eyes. “I g-gave up any right to anything - anything else when I decided it was alright to kill my kih’vode re-regardless of our circumstances.”

86’s voice hardens slightly, and he meets Thire’s gaze. “And - And whatever Fox may say, wh-whatever you believe, the situation I’m in is - is my fault. My choices led me here, and I was prepared to face - face the consequences of those choices when I m-made them.”

That burning won’t go away, and it’s getting a little hard to breathe. Kark why is he such a baby?

(He doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince anymore.)

Thire‘s gaze softens, “You are not responsible for your circumstances. And you made a hard choice. That‘s okay, and it happens.”

He uncrosses his arms and lets his hands fall to his sides, palm open, “If you don‘t have dreams now then they‘ll come again, at some point. That doesn‘t rob you of your right to individuality. Your right to be a person.”

He feels bad to throw all of this at 86 at once. 86 is his own person and Thire‘s guilt about something else in the past shouldn‘t play a part in this. Instead he asks softly, “Can I touch you?”

86 thinks of his greenhouse in the lower halls, of the safe place he has been slowly carving out for himself. The need that he has for such a space… could that be classified as a wish? A dream? He doesn’t know. All he does know is that all of his dreams have been - or turned into - nightmares so far.

At Thire’s question, he stiffens slightly. All touch recently has been bad touch, so this good thing catches him off guard - but he nods anyway, hoping none of his thoughts make it onto his face. “Yes,” he adds out loud for good measure.

Thire gently places a hand on 86‘s shoulder and softly pulls him forward. It‘s a light touch but with the clear intent to hold him close. Thire‘s thumb lightly strokes his shoulder in a soothing motion. Softly he says, “Have you talked to a medic yet?”

He feels sorry for the trooper who looks like a loth cat caught in headlights. But they‘ll have to make an effort to reach out to show 86 that he is wanted and there are brothers who care about him specifically.

86 allows himself to be pulled in - and finds himself slumping against Thire’s chest. Tingles arc across his skin from the place Thire’s thumb strokes his shoulder, and tears swell unbidden in his eyes.

He shakes his head and sniffles, though he tries to keep it quiet. “N-No,” he answers shakily without moving. “Not - Not yet. F-Fox suggested - suggested CMO Paws. I think… I’ll go, m-maybe. Th-There’s still all of this going on, and I can’t - I won’t -” 86 shakes his head again and whines a little in frustration, but mostly at all the emotions coursing through him that he doesn’t really understand. He doesn’t know what’s going on, only that he thinks this feels nice, feels warm.

Thire simply wraps his arms around 86 and pulls him close. Quietly he says, "Udesii, vod‘ika. I have you."

Softly he hums a slow melody and gently continues to stroke over 86‘ back. It is physically painful to see his vod‘ika suffer like that.

The increase in physical contact has 86 shuddering and keening desperately. “Ni’ne,” he cries into Thire’s chest, “ni’ne, ni’ne, ni’ne…”

After a few minutes, 86 manages to swallow his sobs, though he’s still shaking, and he doesn’t move to pull away from the embrace. He even reaches up and clutches at the edges of Thire’s armor to ground himself.

“I’m s-sorry,” he sniffles again. “I don’t - I don’t kn-know what’s - what’s wrong.”

Thire holds him even tighter and softly whispers, “There‘s nothing to be sorry for, vod‘ika.”

His heart breaks a little at the sobs and he wonders how long it‘s been since someone held 86 close. He gently rakes his fingers through the trooper's hair and hums comfortingly, “You‘re doing good. I‘m proud of you.”

It‘s not said very loud but Thire means it nevertheless.

86 completely melts, letting himself fall apart in the safety of a vod’s embrace. Thire is proud of him? The idea of it, the emotion that comes with it, is unfamiliar. He has always been the ori’vod; he doesn’t know how to handle this shift in his self-perceived place in the world. But for some reason, it soothes just a few of his jagged edges.

Eventually, his sobs ease into nothing more than an occasional hitch in his breathing; he’s practically asleep, Thire’s fingers in his hair relaxing him more than he’s been in years, and his chest fills with warmth every time the commander carefully avoids the transmitters of his implants. He’s being cared for, not rejected - like a proper vod, by a vod. 86’ next inhale hitches just slightly, but he has no more tears to cry.

Still boneless against his superior, 86 manages to mumble, “What - What did you wanna s-see me for, sir?”

Thire takes a moment to consider the situation before softly saying, “I wanted to talk to you and check in on you.” He was worried about 86 giving up entirely and ending it but he won‘t tell him that. No need to give the other ideas or the false impression that he needs to be on the brink of eating his gun for someone to care.

So, he softly adds, “A squad should be a family and yours doesn‘t offer you that sort of environment. I wanted to tell you that you can have family wherever, it‘s not limited to the people you work with. You can pick your own friends and family and…” Thire smiles down at 86, “I would very much like to be part of that. But it‘s your choice, vod‘ika. Pick people that make you feel saved and loved, because that‘s what you deserve.”

He moves down so that they are face to face and leans into a soft keldabe, “And I promise, these people exist. You just have to look for them and allow them to love you.”

86 presses into the keldabe, eyes scrunched shut and face screwed up to fight the dry burning in his eyes; he wants to cry, but he’s exhausted himself.

His breath hitches, chest tightening. “My squad - I f-failed them. I can n-never make it to pat-trol with them, I h-hardly eat with th-them… How can they - they not dist-trust me? Th-They even requested an - an extra vod to t-take my place, and they got him, howe-ever they pulled th-that off; I'm - I'm only part of Vada Squad on paper." 86 is confused. Doesn't Thire know that? Isn't it the commander who approves squad formations?”

“My - M-My last family was my b-batch,” he whispers, “and I killed them. Th-They were everything to m-me. We weren’t - We w-were kept separated from the - from the oth-thers, so the six of us… we were all w-we had. For three years n-no one has wanted - wanted to t-talk to the strange vod wh-who showed up out of n-nowhere.”

Somehow, his body manages to produce three more tears to ease the ache in his red and swollen eyes, and he sobs, “Wh-What’s changed? What’s changed?”

Thire looks away for a moment. “I… No one… had realized how alone you were or that you had nobody until it escalated. And that was a terrible mistake, but it doesn‘t mean that it has anything to do with you personally.”

He pulls 86‘ face into his shoulder and quietly says, “I know that this is hard and that it‘s asking a lot. But can you believe me that none of us did it on purpose? Can you give us a second chance to prove that we actually care?”

He knows that that is a lot to ask. But there is no other way to get through this. 86 needs to give his brothers a second chance and try to trust that they genuinely care now. If he doesn‘t at least try, then they have already lost and no chance to fix this and help their vod‘ika.

“I don’t know,” he sobs, holding on tighter. “I don’t know.”

This time 86 tries to pull himself back together, to keep himself coherent and not a blubbering mess. He’s only partially successful.

“I - I know it w-wasn’t on p-purpose, it was m-my fault, and I could - could n-never blame y-you for that.”

86 has a decision to make. Thire has presented him his choices, and now 86 has to decide if he’ll let himself be swallowed by his own darkness, the darkness he fights to keep from his vode, or if he’ll accept the light being offered him.

He thinks of his batch, of what they had all wanted for each other, of the secrets and the dreams they had whispered in the safety of the night cycle. He thinks of his vode, how he wants nothing more than to help them, how he really does care for them even if they don’t reciprocate it. He thinks of himself and how he has fought and struggled to make it this far - and he’s done it on his own. But now… Now there’s a chance for things to change, for him to change.

Fox and Thire believe he’s a person and that he deserves to be loved and cared for. 86 may not believe them, not yet, but… he wants to. He wants to.

In the end, the choice is rather simple. By wanting, 86 knows he is human, and all that’s left is for him to trust Fox and Thire. It’s a tiny step, because he has always trusted his vode (and now he needs to trust them with himself).

“I trust you,” he breathes. “I trust you.”

It’s all he can give right now, but he hopes that Thire will understand - understand that it’s not belief, that it’s not knowing, that 86 is trusting him to see the situation from an outside perspective, that he is trusting Thire with himself.

It’s all he can give.

But he’s always given himself for his brothers.

(Maybe it’s time he trusted them to keep him.)

Thire gently pulls him close and hugs him tightly, “Thank you”, he whispers softly. “This is the greatest gift you can ever give someone.”

He slowly continues to rock 86 back and forth and hums softly to calm the trooper down.

86 continues to hold on tightly, even as he feels himself slowly, slowly start to calm down, breathing evening out and body relaxing until he’s on the edge of sleep. He’s still awake, still aware, but everything feels hazy and distant.

“Vor entye,” he murmurs into Thire’s shoulder.