docvelaw

[docvelaw]

he listens to the words of the prince calmly, understands them, but also understands that if the prince was on a ship trying to get away from something, there is nothing to be gained from running right back to whatever it is. he also understands that a single man alone can do very little to help anyone whatsoever. perhaps he can temporarily prolong the life of one or two, but he’ll most definitely lose his own in the process and then the people and the planet are even less safe than they are now, he presumes. if all of his family is indeed dead, endymion is the last one capable of taking the throne, of rallying the zephyreans after whatever this is has blown over. angel won’t kill his people, won’t kill the ones they can use to work, to rule over, so the person in the most danger at this point in time is endymion himself.

but he is a brave soul, and angry, and doesn’t believe his family is dead and that there might still be something to save. doc himself is more inclined to believe the man who spoke over the comms, the man jaewon and henry seem so interested in. doc’s alliance is with them, after all, not with this prince, no matter how bad he feels for him. he knows very well the sting of betrayal, after all, knows firsthand the rush of revenge wanted and how it eats you until you can get back at whoever did this to you. but he also knows the need of proper preparation, of having a good fallout base. the prince does not want to hear any of that right now, of course. the prince just wants to go back and join his people and his family.

so he stays quiet, just nods at the robot who alters the drip to let some of the sedative through; not enough to knock the prince out, but enough to help him calm down. it’s not long before the young man rips the iv out of his arm, but he’s certain a small dose at least made it into the prince’s bloodstream. he steps closer once the prince gets up, but doesn’t reach out after the words spoken. he does, however, stay alert, waits for the prince to make his own way outside, and ready to follow him as he goes, because he’s not going to let the young man roam around alone in his weakened state. he’ll leave him in henry’s care, who he’s certain will be smart enough to call for him should endymion show any sign of medical issues.

[docvelaw]

harper’s reply to his words is not to be called sharp, but the words still stab like they’re meant to reach his heart and so his whole world comes to a full stop for a moment, stunned by the accusation before he has to admit she is right. and then he thinks of the time he spent fighting for the alliance, fighting for a side that couldn’t care less about people, about life, which are both things he has been taught from a very young age to treasure and preserve. it takes him a moment to shake off the ever lingering guilt of that, but then he manages to shake it off, slowly schools his expression again so that by the time she speaks again, he is mostly composed.

her words are still half a threat, but he accepts that, understands the need he raised for her to have to assert a certain boundary, to warn him off of trying anything like what he did in the very beginning again. she seems willing enough to trust him with treating her child regardless, however, and he wonders if that has anything to do with the person she knows him as or more so with the fact that there is no other medic aboard the ship. no one else other than the bare minimum, really. still, he straightens automatically, turns and motions her to follow him to the table where all his items are nearby.

“you can put her down here. how old is she?” the words come automatic, his voice having shifted into that of his profession; no nonsense and clear cut. luckily harper seems to be okay with that, because she does as told and answers him immediately. and so he starts on the checkup, letting the robot help him in a less obvious way to not alarm the woman again as he takes the child’s weight, checks her breathing and her heartbeat, makes sure everything is as it should be with the little baby. he even starts a file on her, asking her name, any medical issues she might have had, any medical issues in the family. harper’s voice doesn’t even hitch when she says she doesn’t know about the father’s side and so he accepts it like he accepts everything else, giving a little nod of his head and simply continuing.

when he is all done with the child, he motions for her to pick it up again, then continues asking some questions about the behaviour that worried her and anything else that might have transpired since. by the time he’s reached a conclusion, harper is seated on a chair with the babe at her breast and he calmly puts a glass of water down on the counter next to her, before pulling up his own chair to take a seat as well - far enough away to not be counted as a threat. his gun is still lying a little end away where she put it down, and he makes sure to let her sit between him and it, doing his best not to seem like he might want to do anything to her after all.

“your daughter is in perfect health,” he says as he takes his seat. “she has a good weight for her age as well. the reason she’s been so restless is probably because she’s still trying to adapt to life on a spaceship out in the black. the ship simulates gravity, but we’re still hurtling through the black at crazy speed. she knows something isn’t entirely right but obviously she doesn’t know what. i’m sorry to say that the only thing that will help with this is time.” he can’t help smiling softly as he thinks of a little baby girl, always a little bit soft for children. “next time she can’t sleep you can come see me, there are a few things we can try to help her feel more at ease that don’t require medicine. if i’m not here, my quarters are just around the corner.”

give me the news

[docvelaw]

the prince’s rejection of all of his words is instant and complete, and he has to repress the urge to just sigh really deeply and loudly. he can understand, after all, the need to figure out what’s going on and to want to get back to his own people. what he can’t understand is the complete and total disregard of the fact that other people are involved, who have their own plans and timetable. the complete and total disregard that the ship he is on is not in any single, tiny way endymion’s to command. he’s glad for the disguise for a moment, because he’s certain he’s long stopped being good at masking his annoyance with someone else’s arrogance, and so at least with the goggles, mask and hood it doesn’t show to the prince.

and his voice he can keep level. after all, his voice has been trained almost as rigorously as he himself has to be able to endure this job and all that comes with it - including delivering bad news to highly emotional people. so he takes the cup from endymion, and he allows the contact between them without pulling away like he’s burned.

“the captain will see you when he has time for you,” he says calmly, keeping anything that might sound like patronising out of his voice and merely adopting a polite tone. yet there are things he thinks the prince should hear, and perhaps better they come from him while the young man is still on the iv drip and he can let the robot up the sedative at any moment than when faced with the captain and ready to throw another hysterical fit. so when he continues, it’s still polite and amicable, but also a little bit more matter-of-fact. “i am not certain when exactly we will land next, nor have i been made aware of where we are going. the ship has been strained by rushing to your aid and we are working with a skeleton crew as it is. regardless, until we find out what exactly happened on zephyr, i don’t think it’s safe to try and throw a signal out there, there is no saying who it might reach and what extra problems that could bring us.”

he slowly pulls away then, so he can turn and put the cup back where he picked it up from, filling it with water once more but leaving it there for now. at all times he stays highly aware of any sound of movement behind him, for he honestly can’t put it past the prince to rip the needle out and make a run for it just to find the captain himself and demand whatever it is that needs demanding. so when he turns back around, he leans back against the counter, just so that he won’t get pushed out of the way or grabbed by the collar for the words he speaks next.

“just remember, endymion, that we are not on zephyr, not even on a zephyrian ship, you do not have the authority here that you would at home. you cannot expect to demand something of the captain and have him bow to your every wish. this is his ship and you are but a passenger. asking politely will get you further than demands ever could.” he pauses for a single moment before taking another breath and adding: “i believe henry is working in the engine room, if you’d like to see him i can take you to him, perhaps he can tell you more than i can.”

a zephyran timetable

[docvelaw]

the days are blending in with each other, time always becoming obsolete on a space ship out in the black with no patients to care for and nothing to do but wait until they reach their next destination, until new supplies are gathered and he can spend his time arranging everything in this med bay just so that he can find it all without help, that he can do his job without looking like he’s the last person capable of it. so when the door opens, he thinks it might be henry, come to seek him out for a change, to maybe bring some entertainment to an otherwise dull day. what he doesn’t expect is the female voice. what he expects even less, is the voice of the robot feeding him information at the same time.

harper lee. ariel resident. loyal to the alliance. he remembers the name, even vaguely remembers the woman he’d seen a few times. none of it matters, the only thing he can think of is those last four words, and those are the ones he reacts too. with a speed he didn’t realise he still possessed, instincts that kick in even after years of disuse, he lunges for his gun, pulls it from its hiding place under the table and whirls around, aiming right at the place where the robot tells him she is. he doesn’t expect her reaction to be as fast as it is, the robot’s warning voice only speaking when he already feels the tug on his arm, feels the painful stab in his wrist, feels his fingers lose their grip and then the gun is gone, until it is back a second later, pressed against his forehead.

and then there is something utterly remarkable, a sound he hasn’t heard in a very long time, and especially didn’t think he would hear aboard a smuggling ship; the sound of a baby. right then, the robot helpfully supplies him with she is carrying an infant, i have it in my visor. he’s not capable of reacting straight away, a brain full of wonder why an alliance member would be coming after him with a baby, considering it might be a disguise, wondering if it’s really hers or not. and then her voice sounds up, and it’s got that tone to it that leaves no trace for doubt. that is her child and she is the mother and if he doesn’t stop being a threat to her baby, he will not live much longer. or a very long time still, but only in pure agony. it still takes him another moment to be able to take a breath, to regain his composure, and then he lifts a hand and motions the robot to back down.

“it’s alright,” he says to it, can only hope the woman realises he’s not talking to her. “stop threatening the child.” the robot does as told, its weapon disappearing back into its casing, and a moment later the press of the gun leaves his forehead, though he thinks he would be stupid to assume it is not still aimed at him. “i apologise, harper,” he says after a moment, straightening, lifting a hand to pull his shirt straight again. “i’m being hunted and last we met you were on the hunting side. i reacted before thinking it through.” he pretends like it’s all no big deal, like the gun she’s aiming at him is not even there, because he can’t see it anyway, can’t tell how close she is still to shooting him. he does keep his hands in sight, however, and makes sure there is no reason for her to think he might try something else.

give me the news

[docvelaw]

the prince is surprised by his easy recognition, which means he has not yet connected the dots, and doc can’t really blame him for it, can’t really blame him for not thinking of a random doctor treating his little sister many moons ago, when there is so much recent trauma in his life that it would be hard for anyone to wrap their heads around. it’s only when he mentions the one name he knows endymion would know as well that the young man responds, interrupting his words. he gives a nod of his head to indicate that yes, he was the doctor who helped euridice, and yes, henry is henry lau, currently holed up somewhere in the engine room, probably, like he has been ever since they came here.

and honestly, he would have expected the young prince to recognise them, but the kind of emotions that lay in that single question indicate that something much bigger must have transpired between them. no matter what it was, no matter if all henry said they did together was inspect and work on mechs, it must have been important to his patient, whose voice tilts in the way of hope, of surprise, of sudden subdued delight. all he can do is simply give another nod of his head, even as the robot informs him that the prince has been eyeing the exit a few times as if trying to plan his escape route.

“i do not know how much of what saito said on the recording was true,” he replies softly. “i’m also not sure at this point what the captain’s plan is. i don’t think you should consider yourself a prisoner, but there is nowhere else you can go at the moment, as we are out in the black.” he’s not sure of this, of course, he does not know if jaewon will treat endymion like a passenger or a prisoner, will consider him a nuisance or a help. what he does know is that both the captain and henry seemed to have known this man, saito, and that they’d gone by every single escape pod but had come back still unsure of the man’s whereabouts. and so the reality is that saito could be anywhere, and he presumes their next course of action is trying to find this man, wherever he may be.

it is not up to him to relay any information to the prince that his crewmembers might not want endymion to know, even if the prince seems trustworthy enough to him. he, too, has put his disguise back on, after all, has made it so not even the so-called trustworthy prince will be able to bear witness to his face.

“your injuries are minor,” is therefore the next thing he says. “but your body has been through a lot and has been under major strain. it would be best if you rested plenty and slept here in the med bay for a while so i can make sure you’re well. however if you’d like to walk around in the day you’re free to do so.” he doesn’t add ‘from a medical perspective’ because that will only make the prince feel like a prisoner even more. so instead he just reaches out a hand so the young man can give the empty cup back, and waits to see what else it is endymion will ask him about.

a zephyran timetable

[docvelaw]

he’s spent many hours in the med bay so far with his two remaining patients, mainly focused on the white haired male who’s slipped into a coma, the robot performing several different scans of the body, trying to figure out where the issues lie, what can possibly be done to heal the man’s body so that his mind can come back to itself and he will be capable of waking up. he knows that having the capability won’t mean the man necessarily will wake up, but it is all he can do for him, and so he does it to his best ability.

both the man and endymion himself are severely underfed, but he remembers this from his own time on zephyr not too long ago; the food shortages, the rations, the need to make a little bit last a long time. he recognises the man’s white hair, his clothing, has been given plenty an explanation on zephyrian matters as he was seated by the bed side of one of endymion’s younger sisters, her mother trying to give him everything he could possibly need in order to save her child. and save her he eventually did, but apparently that only bought her enough time to face a more recent, bigger horror.

he hears a sound coming from the sick bed behind him, but the robot is mid-scan and so he doesn’t react to it yet at first, knows it’s endymion’s first attempt at speech and so he should go get a glass of water, should make sure the prince has everything he needs, but he can’t turn away until the robot finishes the scan, and so he waits or the familiar beeping sound first. he straightens then, right as the prince calls for him, asks him the usual questions, and so he turns to go get a cup of water, which he walks over to endymion’s bedside with, reaches it out to his lips for him to drink, gives the prince the choice whether he wants to try and hold it or not.

“drink slowly, your highness,” he says softly, wonders if the young man will remember the sound of his voice, or if he will more likely remember the way he is fully covered, eyes hidden behind goggles and face hidden within his hood. “we are on a firefly type ship. a few hours before you came aboard we received a distress call from the emerald dragon. we came as fast as we could but found only wreckage. henry and the captain took the shuttle out to look for survivors, they found you and one of the brothers.” he inclines his head in the direction of the other patient, laying motionless where he has been all along. “do you remember what happened when you woke up last?”

a zephyran timetable

[docvelaw]

jaewon answers his question with the very bare minimum, a literal answer to what he asked and nothing more. and perhaps he should have known, should have remembered this is a man of few words and fewer emotions, at least out for the world to see, but he’d mindlessly hoped to hear some good news for a change, to catch maybe a glimmer of hope that for some of them this life isn’t turning out all too bad after they’d lost it all. still, he doesn’t press, would never do that to another when he’s got more stories hidden right beneath his skin than most people live in their lifetime.

so when the next words out of jaewon’s mouth are some sort of goodbye, he inclines his head in acceptance of it. “alright, captain,” he replies slowly, doesn’t attempt to look in jaewon’s direction for his gaze will simply miss its target anyway and it will only end up looking off and strange. “thank you.”

he waits for the door to close behind the jaewon, wonders if the man will go seek out henry again to continue their conversation or if there is also no conversation to be had there, no words to be gotten from the captain for a longtime friend. it’s a single heartbeat later that he decides it’s none of his business, and then he quietly shuffles back to the door panel, so he can start with mapping out the room in his mind, acquainting himself with it so at least in this small space he won’t have to depend on the robot at all times.

and once he’s done here, he’ll do the same in the med bay. it doesn’t seem like he’ll be needed anywhere else anytime soon anyway.

[ fin. ]

back home

[docvelaw]

now lies ruined beyond the horizon

the battle of du-khang late 2509

it’s dangerous. he knows this. he knows the area is riddled with independents, that they’re almost overrun and that the battle is as good as lost. they are retreating, he knows this too. that doesn’t mean he’s about to give up a fellow soldier, a friend, no matter what the others are yelling at him. no matter that he hears someone yell about a message having been passed on through the radio. just a month ago he patched lillieth up and got her back on her feet, he’s not about to let her life slip through his fingers when all it will take to rescue her is just run back a few steps and help her up from the ground.

and so he turns around and runs back, back into danger, back into the fray. he reaches her easily, they’re not in the middle of battle, after all, there are no bullets flying in all directions, this is not a crazy risk to take. “come on,” he tells her, taking hold of her arm and putting it around his shoulders, picking her up from the floor, helping her up on her feet, turning the both of them towards the others, towards the way to safety.

and then disaster hits.

the trembles reach them first, the entire ground shaking. lillieth loses her footing again and nearly drags him down with her as she falls. he stays upright somehow, her arm slipping from around his shoulders again, her weight taken from him once more. the noise reaches them at the same time as the wind does, the dust, the debris, the heat of the explosion, the reality of their doom.

he lifts his hands in a feeble attempt to protect himself, but it’s too late already. the pain of a million cuts sears into him, through him. he gasps in surprise but his throat feels like it’s on fire and the last thought on his mind is how he doesn’t want to die like this, alone, unable to tell salathiel the most important thing on his mind that has yet to be voiced aloud.

the long term sick bay early 2510

when he wakes it is dark, it is cold, he tries to shift and groans at the stab of pain going through his side as he does. for a moment or two he lies in solid confusion, before the memories slowly start trickling in. he groans again as they do, startles into full awareness when he remembers lillieth and the explosion, and then the steady beeping of the machine next to the bed speeds up, making him become aware of it. he sucks in a breath of air with some difficulty, and then a curtain is pushed aside and a bead of light falls on his face, causing him to flinch and close his eyes.

when he slowly opens them again a moment later to see who has come to ask him questions, he sees everything hazily, and so he blinks a few times, then a few times more. eventually he lifts his hands to rub his eyes, but he’s stopped before he can. he opens his eyes again automatically, looks over at the woman by his side questioningly, and then has to adapt his thoughts because the only reason he thinks it’s a woman is because there is long hair flowing past the face, he can’t actually see for sure.

“the debris from the explosion damaged your hands and eyes,” a soft voice tells him, and in it he finds the reassurance that yes, this is a woman standing next to his bed. “they’ve healed well so far but it is still not a good idea to rub at your eyes.” he slowly lowers his hands again, nods his head once and then is suddenly hit with the full meaning of her words, slamming into his gut like a heavy block of ice. his hands and eyes. the two things he needs the most to be able to do his job. his hands and eyes.

perhaps she sees the desolation in his expression, he doesn’t know, he’s suddenly too tired to comprehend anything. so he closes his eyes again, which makes it easier not to think about his blurry vision.

“lillieth?” he croaks, voice heavy with disuse, and the single word has him coughing, throat dry, body weak and deteriorated. how long has he been out? this must have been more than a few days. he recognises some of the symptoms from long ago lectures of some of the best doctors they could find to train him. he recognises the haziness, the heaviness of his body, the feeling of disorientation. he swallows with some difficulty and then tries again. “what happened to lillieth?”

there’s a moment’s pause, the silence he dreads, the foreboding of an answer he already knows he doesn’t want to hear. but then a hand comes to rest gently on his shoulder, and the voice now filled with worry sounds up again. “adrien... i am lillieth. don’t you recognise me?”

he’s not sure whether the sinking dread or the rising relief is bigger just then.

adrien’s private sick room early 2510

there’s light filtering in through the windows when the door to his room opens and salathiel walks in. he knows it’s salathiel because he would recognise that frame anywhere, would be able to recognise this man by the sound of his breathing alone, perhaps. unlike all those times before, he feels the hurt surge through him, the sadness, the betrayal. he remembers all too well lillieth’s words, doesn’t think he could ever forget those few specific sentences. salathiel ordered the explosion, and got promoted to a much higher title for winning the battle, and he knew we were down there.

he could never have imagined something like this happening. after all, he trusted this man with his life, with his heart and soul, fully and unconditionally. but he should have seen it coming, he thinks, should have seen it coming that salathiel godkiller would place his cause before everything else, even him. he should have known that whatever he held inside of his chest, whatever thoughts he’d managed to delude himself into thinking, were solely his and not for the both of them. he should have known that-

but no, he thinks. no. he doesn’t know the full story, sal probably didn’t mean to, didn’t want to, there will be an explanation, there will be an apology, there will be regret, and he will be able to forgive his best friend for nearly killing him, because it was never meant to have happened like that. he was never supposed to have been there. salathiel still holds the benefit of the doubt, and he’s not about to take it away from him without hearing his side of the story.

“adrien,” the familiar voice breathes out, and he hears relief, care, all the usual things. it’s a good thing they’re alone here, he thinks, so that sal will feel free to say what it is he needs to say. it’s a good thing there is no one else around, so he doesn’t have to pretend like he can see any better than he can, doesn’t have to hide his ruination in fear of being pitied. salathiel won’t pity him, salathiel will understand, salathiel will- “i’m so glad you’re alright. when i heard what happened, i-”

he can’t help how he tenses when the fingers touch his face, how he jerks his head away ever so slightly, unprepared as he is for the touch, for the familiarity, for the warmth and the level of disgust he feels because of it. salathiel seems to take his actions for regret about the state of him, or something along those lines, because the hand doesn’t leave his face, the fingers brushing past his cheek again in order to trace the scars on his brow and temple, the tiny white lines lillieth tried to show him in the mirror but that he hasn’t been able to bring properly into focus. that he will never be able to bring properly into focus again. damaged eyesight. damaged hands.

“you’ll be okay,” salathiel tells him, like a certainty, like there is no doubt in his mind about it. like just saying it will make it be so. “now that you’ve woken up you’ll be okay.” he doesn’t think he will be, doesn’t think anything could ever be okay again, but he doesn’t say that. instead he swallows, blinks, slowly pulls his face away from the burning touch of those fingers and tries to focus his gaze on the familiar dark purple eyes.

“sal,” he says, attempts, tries. “what- what happened?”

salathiel quiets for a moment, and he doesn’t need perfect eyesight to see the familiar crease in his best friend’s forehead, to recognise the temporary pause before he speaks again. “well, i gave the order to target the area and after the explosion wiped out most of the independents, the battle was won quite easily.”

no remorse, no regret, not even the slightest hint of an apology. instead, salathiel’s voice soon colours with so much delighted expectation that it makes him sick to his stomach.

“i got promoted, rye, they gave me a new title and everything!”

he closes his eyes, tries to swallow away the bile rising in his throat and lets out some sort of noncommittal hum. “that’s great,” he says, without any conviction whatsoever, turning his face away from his longtime friend. “i’m tired.”

adrien’s quarters early 2510

the door slides open and he lifts his head automatically, takes in the shape of the man striding in like he owns the place. he needs no sight to recognise that walk, the confidence, the arrogance.

“rye,” salathiel says, sounding as pleased as ever upon finding him in his quarters, but where else would he be? he’s still recovering, slowly regaining his strength, slowly attempting to return his life to normal - or whatever will pass for normal now that he can’t see anymore. “i got you something.” he becomes aware then of something following salathiel inside, something small and grey that he can’t identify as is.

it’s not long before salathiel has picked it up off the floor and put it on his lap, his own hands soon resting on cool metal. there’s a few beeping sounds, and then salathiel’s fingers putting some sort of earplug in his ear. ‘hello,’ a robotised voice soon speaks almost right into his brain, or so it seems like. ‘i am a helper bot, programmed to make your life easier. i can do all kinds of things for you like reading or fetching things. i am activated by your voice command. please say your name to establish ownership.’

he looks down at the thing on his lap for several long moments, salathiel a beacon of contained expectation at his side, and for a few long moments he wishes nothing more than to get up from his seat and kick the whole rutting robot out into the vastness of space. he swallows that away like he has swallowed many of his urges so far, and instead does as told.

“adrien wolfstone,” he says softly, and salathiel’s hand finds its way to his shoulder as he does so. he wishes he could brush it off. he wishes he could throw up. he wishes he could throw himself off the edge of the verse into oblivion. ‘ownership established,’ the computerised voice tells him. ‘if you put me down on the floor i can map out the room for you so i can find anything you need.’ he does as told once more, leaning forward and putting the robot back on the ground, effectively causing salathiel’s hand to slide off his shoulder at the same time.

when he straightens up again, it requires every muscle in his body to pull his lips up into a smile, to look at the blurry shape of his friend and not show the hot anger slowly burning a hole through his very soul.

salathiel’s quarters mid 2510

“where are you always off to these days?”

if he didn’t know the older man any better, he’d say salathiel was pouting. as it is, he thinks the man is just being a spoiled brat, and that is definitely nothing new. rather than give a proper answer, he just shrugs his shoulders once.

“wouldn’t know,” he says easily. “i can’t read the street signs.” his grin is sharp, the chuckle he huffs out void of any mirth whatsoever, but salathiel still chuckles along with him. he hates that more than anything. hates that the man thinks he is here for any other reason than because he has no other choice. he’s long stopped wanting to be here, long stopped spending his nights here. he hasn’t been able to fall asleep in salathiel’s vicinity, always wary of being stabbed in the back once more, somehow certain at this point that the man is just waiting for a moment of weakness before he’ll finish the job he butchered at du-khang.

“you don’t have to read the street signs to come here,” salathiel says, and he huffs out another laugh, sharp and cold. 

“that’s true,” he agrees, leaves it at that because he doesn’t have anything else to say, doesn’t have anything else to add to this conversation without making it go in a different direction entirely, and he’s too close to success to ruin it all now. so he stays quiet, and he forces his expression into something accommodating.

“anyway,” salathiel says after a moment, as if trying to pretend nothing’s wrong, as if trying to forget whatever he just saw in adrien’s face. “i brought you those plans you wanted to look at. you can let the robot scan them, then you can look them over as often as you’d like.”

he nods his head placidly, even as his heart starts thumping loudly in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins with every beat. his eyes go to the robot, the inadequate apology of metal and alloy that he has slowly turned into his biggest weapon against the man who gave it to him. “scan the papers,” he tells it, and it responds with a few bleeps, before rolling over to the table and starting to do as told.

when he looks up, salathiel is smiling at him. he doesn’t realise it’s because the smile on his own face is the first genuine one in a long time.

the end is near.

the independents’ base mid 2510

“my name is adrien wolfstone. i used to work as a medic for the alliance, but not anymore.” he makes a vague motion of his hand towards his face, like that is the explanation for everything. across from him stand a few of the independents’ leaders, the one deciding his fate in the middle of them, wearing a long coat, combat boots, his arms crossed in front of his chest tightly.

“i want to join your cause. i brought plans of a few of the alliance’s ships and a few of their bases. i can be a doctor for you, treat your wounded. i can also go to battle with you if you want me to.” he motions the little robot forward, and it rolls a step ahead of him slowly. there are guns aimed at it instantly, someone stepping forward as if to step in between the robot and its presumed target - the leader of these people, it seems. all the little creature does is project the maps like a hologram above the table.

“i can give you information on the allied forces’ plans, i can tell you for certain a few places where some of them will be in the near future.” he stands tall, proud, unmoving. if he gets shot in the chest for this, then the oblivion he’s yearned for is close behind. if he can’t get revenge, the black is probably the best place for him to go anyway.

“and why,” the man in the middle eventually speaks, and adrien realises he’s young too, despite being in charge of this band of rebels. “would we believe you? what proof do you have that this information is genuine, that you’re not a spy? and even if you are not, how can we know you won’t betray us like you are betraying them?”

he clenches his hands, feels the phantom sting of the endless cuts in his fingers, feels the wreckage wrought on his face, blinks and blinks again to clear a blurry vision that will never sharpen again.

“because,” he says through clenched teeth. “when salathiel godkiller ordered the bombing of the du-khang battle ground, he did not care that his own people were still there as well. they did not care that i was harmed for life, that i would have to learn to adapt to a new life with limited vision, limited skill.” he fixes his eyes on the blurry shape of their leader.

“because if you let me help you blow up his ship, i will follow you into the jaws of death itself if that’s what you want from me.”

out in the black later 2510

remnants of the ship are scattered all across the black around them, chunks of metal and wiring, some sparking, some burning. there are dead bodies floating, frozen in space and time. a few shuttles have made it away safely, a few escape pods remain intact.

one of them holds precious cargo; salathiel godkiller himself.

one of them gets hauled on a comm line, the connection light flickering on and off until it is accepted. once the comm line is established, the screen flickers to life, showing nothing but static for a moment, before the image flickers to life.

adrien stands on the other side of this camera, arms crossed, a brown coat covering most of his body, his dark, failing eyes staring straight into the camera, straight into salathiel’s soul. there is no smile of triumph, no sneer on his face, no expression whatsoever. after a heartbeat, the image falls away, the screen cuts to black, before letters appear on it.

now you know how it feels, asshole.

the connection is severed, the escape pod is left to float adrift in the black.

adrien wolfstone disappears from salathiel’s life completely.

[docvelaw]

the road once paved with good intentions

aboard the warhammer early 2498

“you can’t catch us!”

he’s running. ever running. not away from anyone or anything, but towards something.

the ship’s hallways are endless and yet he’s never gotten lost before in his life. perhaps his inner compass is that true, or maybe he’s just always made sure to be in the right company to find his way back to where he needs to be.

there’s several other children’s voices audible in the hallway, giggles and other sounds of delight intermingling as their feet drum on the hallway floors, racing through the open space in an effort to get away from or closer towards each other. he’s not just one of the many, this he’s realised over time. the other kids look up to him, award him a sort of reverence that he recognises from how they look at the only other child to be rewarded this same reverence - even more so than him. it is the dark eyed starchild, son of the ship’s captain, the one who always calls all the shots, and his best friend.

salathiel is a whole different category on his own, always has been. he knows this, accepts this without resentment, for it takes only one look at the boy to know, to know. sal is at the top somewhere, high up in the stars. adrien is at the top as well, but he’s only at the top of the little rabble of children that they play with. he’s the boss of them only insofar as sal allows him to be. he knows this. he doesn’t mind. he would do near anything for the purple-eyed boy at his side anyway. or maybe not just near anything, maybe it’s really just anything.

they round a corner, feet thudding on the floorboards in sync, as he always ever falls into step with the older boy, always ever seems to gravitate towards him and then adapt to fit beside him properly. it’s not a conscious thing, but it happens over and over again. suddenly the rhythm of his steps gets interrupted, his friend’s hand closing around his arm and yanking him through an open door on the side. the door panel closes behind them almost instantly, as if it already responds to the thoughts of the boy who is set to own it some day, and then they’re piling behind a series of stacked boxes, collapsing on the floor while breathing heavily, wide grins on their faces.

his cheeks are pleasantly flushed, his heartbeat racing from the exertion in all the best ways, and when he tilts his head to look up at his friend, he looks straight at the dark purple glow of his eyes, outlined by the shape of his face. he pauses as he always does when they lock gazes like this, doesn’t think twice of the way his heartbeat always speeds up rather than calms down when it happens, nor of the way he’s always grinning when they’re together.

sal shoves his face away and he laughs at it, at the familiarity of the motion. rather than accept this, though, he rolls over, puts his head on the older boy’s stomach and tilts it so he can look up at him again, taking his friend in from this upside-down viewpoint he’s achieved now.

“you almost tripped,” he says, grins widely though he doesn’t in the slightest say this as something he might make fun of his friend for. sal doesn’t consider it worth a reply, which is expected, so he simply reaches up to touch his friend’s face, his breathing having settled a bit at this point. “shall we go out and chase them instead?” he offers next, and this is something that does get the older boy’s approval.

in no time they’re up on their feet again. the door panel slides open to let them out, and with loud war cries they throw themselves back into the fray, instantly scattering the other children as they go scampering away from the duo.

aboard the warhammer mid 2504

he’s tired, weary down to his very bones, the training is hard and long, he’s given only as much time off as he really needs and he’s spending too much of that time hanging out with his friend rather than using it to study and sleep. he can’t imagine it differently, though, can’t imagine himself hardly seeing the older boy and spending most of his time with his nose either in books or in supposed patients. there are better things to spend his time on, he thinks, things like sitting on the floor of salathiel’s quarters listening to his friend tell him about his day, or things like sharing dinner with him, listening to him talk to the other people around. he usually zones out for almost half of the ongoing conversation, doesn’t really care either way what they all talk about, but this time is different.

“i don’t know what you mean,” he hears salathiel say, voice lowering a notch, turning dangerous and almost lethal, and for a moment he pities whoever managed to anger his friend. so he lifts his head, tries to see if it’s someone he likes, so perhaps he can maybe attempt to soften the blow. but he hasn’t full well managed to spot whoever it was that spoke when sal continues talking. “he’s one of the best gorram doctors in the verse. one more word from you about it and i’ll make sure you’ll never breathe another syllable again.”

there’s a momentary pause, in which he finds himself utterly lost and confused, but then each different set of eyes is slowly turned towards him, and after another few moments of blankly staring back at them, he suddenly realises that it was him; they were talking about him. more importantly; salathiel called him one of the best doctors in the verse. he takes a moment of just smugly grinning at the people looking his way, before he turns his head over to look at his friend, who has already abandoned the conversation now that his point has been made and is focusing back on his food.

he can’t help it, the way he’s beaming the widest, happiest smile ever. can’t help the way he has to just look at sal for a few moments longer, just take him in and let the delight of being praised by his best friend seep into his very soul. this he will never forget. this he will carry with him for the rest of his life. this moment of happiness, of pride, of being praised.

salathiel’s quarters early 2507

the war is brutal. it takes from them the things they love, takes from them the people they love. the verse as they know it changes. life as they know it changes. in all of this, the only constant they have is each other. salathiel’s sister was the first casualty, the first one that mattered. her absence lies over everything they do like a barbed wire blanket. their friends come next. people they’ve known their whole lives, rudely torn away from their sides. there are holes in his heart where people used to be, holes in his life where their bodies used to fill up space. he looks at them, takes them in, then lets it all go. it is not important.

when he comes back after a long day, he’s ever so glad to find sal alone, a moment of peace to be had just for the two of them. he doesn’t even attempt to knock or to have a conversation, he simply slaps the door panel closed and walks over to his friend. he drops down onto the bed like a bag of bricks, all at once and completely, toppling over and allowing half his side and head to come to rest against salathiel’s legs. there’s no greeting coming from his friend either, but there’s a hand temporarily brushing past his shoulder and when he breathes out a sigh, it comes accompanied by a smile automatically.

he wakes up with salathiel’s hair tickling his nose. he lifts a hand automatically to rub the itchy body part and then runs gentle fingertips through his friend’s hair, the same soft affection he always holds in his chest for this particular person. sal makes some sound or the other in his sleep, shifting and twitching, probably fighting a war in his dreams just the same as he does in reality, and all he can do is continue the gentle threading of his fingers through those dark locks, waiting for the dream to subside and for his friend to return to a calmer sleep.

when eventually it happens, he smiles again, and automatically leans down to nuzzle his friend’s hair, wrapping his arm around the man’s body and closing his eyes once more, content enough as he is to simply fall back asleep.

an abandoned hallway late 2508

when he rounds the corner he nearly runs bodily into someone else, but it takes only a single link of eyes for him to realise who it is, and then he instigates the collision himself, though much more softly. he wraps arms around the familiar frame, nuzzles up against the cheek and then sighs contently as he stays in that close proximity for a moment or two, nearly leaning entirely into the solid frame of the other man.

“you’re drunk,” salathiel accuses him and he can’t help the grin, can’t help the guilty chuckle that makes it past his lips. he knows he’s not being accused of drinking, he’s being accused of drinking without sal, and he would feel bad for it but really there’s no reason to, because there are absolutely no rules against the both of them drinking some more together. “why are you drunk?”

“stephen got back on his feet,” he explains. “the guys wanted to celebrate.” he runs a hand up salathiel’s side and nuzzles into his shoulder contently, always ever so much more touchy when he’s drunk. there’s a sigh heaving the body against him and then salathiel’s hand’s in his hair, causing him to close his eyes and nearly croon with delight.

“i’m not even close to drunk enough to deal with you like this,” salathiel says after a minute, and he chuckles again, because he knows this is not an accusation at him, but more of a statement. and so he slips his hand into his bag and pulls out the bottle he nicked from the party.

“it’s a good thing i brought you some,” he says, all bright-eyed delight and drunken amusement, and salathiel’s expression shifts from a frown to a flicker of amusement. it’s only a flicker, but it’s more than enough for him.

when he lies nearly passed out on the bed later that night, his hands are kept warm between the blanket and salathiel’s skin, his head comfortably settled against the older man’s chest and his entire body glowing with the delight of proximity. his eyes are halfway closed, but he’s fighting the urge to close them completely, just so he can get another glance at his best friend’s face. just so he can see those dark purple eyes fixed on him. and he grins at them, and he buries a bit closer against the warmth of the other body, and he finally closes his eyes to let the drunken stupor carry him off.

salathiel’s quarters mid 2509

“tell me,” he says softly, running his fingers softly through the dark hair, over the creased forehead, rubbing soothing circles on sal’s temples. it doesn’t take all too long for salathiel to talk, spilling the day’s events like a drain unplugged, like a boil pricked open. he doesn’t have to listen to everything that’s said perfectly, doesn’t have to remember every detail, he just has to be there and listen to his friend, listen as the only person in the whole damn verse that salathiel can still trust. so he does.

and when eventually the words dry up and the tense muscles relax, he moves his fingers back into his friend’s hair, threading different patterns on salathiel’s scalp. it’s been a long time since he’s seen salathiel relax anywhere other than in the privacy of his own quarters, with the door locked and no risk of anyone suddenly barging in for an emergency or the other. he’s glad that there is at least still a place where sal can be like this, where they can both be like this.

he doesn’t even remember the last time he slept in his own room. doesn’t think he would even know where to look for it. his clothes are stored here, his medic kit goes everywhere with him and when his brain is too tired to process anything else, it still always knows the way to this particular corner of the ship. he’s never been denied entrance, has never refused going inside either, and if in the deepest, darkest parts of himself he hopes he can spend every single one of his remaining nights here, then that is something between him and the black.

and maybe the man slowly falling asleep on his lap.

[docvelaw]

the past come to haunt

after finding the emerald dragon the med bay

he did not expect the flurry of movement and activity so soon, that’s a given. they did do a few jobs so far, and jaewon did say they were headed to a planet where there was usually work to be found, but then in the middle of what he thought was going to be an easy trip, suddenly the ship had jostled, he’d been nearly thrown to the floor and then they’d been flying at a much faster speed than before, breaking through the verse like there were reavers on their heels.

he’s not fully certain yet of what happened after, as he’d gone up to the deck only when they’d slowed down again, and had found harper there alone, jaewon and henry apparently off in a shuttle to go and try to rescue whatever survivors there were of the wreckage. he doesn’t know which wreckage, because in the heat of things people tend to forget that what is obvious to them isn’t always obvious to him, but he hasn’t tried to bother anyone with his questions so far, and he doesn’t think he will anytime soon.

what he does know is this; hours later brought jaewon and henry back to the ship, with three pods with supposed survivors. before jaewon had cracked open the first, his robot had already informed him that two might make it, but one would not, at least not with their limited supplies. he thinks he told jaewon as much, though not exactly in those words, but what went on with the girl did not matter as much in the light of what happened after her. he doesn’t know what transpired between the captain and their third rescue, only made it back to where the others were to check on said rescue about the time when a video was playing, some male voice he doesn’t know saying they were hunted by the alliance.

he hasn’t heard of them in a while, hasn’t been worried about them in a while, because henry and him have been keeping a very low profile, going from one insignificant planet to the next. he wasn’t prepared for the way the mere mention of them set his heart speeding, his breath rushing. he wasn’t prepared for the momentary jolt of fear going through him, born from an ever-growing worry that they’re bound to catch up some day; that like everything running, he is bound to be stopped one day.

luckily endymion had gone into hysterics, a foreboding of shock, and the steady warning voice of his robot in his ear had jolted him from his own stupor, to go over and take care of his third patient.

so here he is, with three new patients in his medbay and the means to take care of almost none of them. harper put the old man on a drip, and he’s added a few things to help him regain strength, he’s given endymion a calming sedative, so that when the young man wakes he’ll be less likely to instantly fly right into a second rage, and he’s done for the girl what he could, which is almost nothing. most importantly, however, his hood is back up, his goggles covering his eyes and the mask hiding his nose, mouth and chin. there is no way now for these people to know who he is, no way for them to ever tell the alliance hunting them who they’ve seen, and that is really the only thing he’s currently worried about.

so worried there might be many a sleepless night in his future, as there have been a few already in the past couple of days.

[docvelaw]

when jaewon speaks, it’s in a trail towards the doors they entered through and headed back out, so he instantly turns that way and follows after the man again. the robot knows never to roll in his way, keeping up easily at his side or temporarily moving behind him if the space is to small to fit the both of them next to each other. he’s so used to the little thing following along with him that he’s long stopped paying any sort of attention to it and just assumes it’s right there whenever he needs it. something he’s certain he’ll come to regret if ever it is somehow taken from him. still, he’s not really scared of that happening, because the thing can defend itself fine. he doesn’t even want to know how much money crept into creating this little - inadequate still, he should add - apology gift.

he can’t help huffing out in amusement when jaewon speaks of not knowing how many smuggling ships he’s been on, thinks of his own struggle with his failing eyesight and how no self-respecting captain would have ever hired him. he thinks of how he’d spent years on backwater planets attempting to heal those who didn’t have the money to pay for decent doctors, and how the only way he’d been able to perfect his skills even when nearly blind, was to make many, many mistakes, with a good percentage of them often proving fatal. he doesn’t like to think about those days, but they’re a part of his past as much now as they’ve ever been. there is only one person he blames for all of it, one person whose eyes he sees in his nicest dreams and his worst nightmares.

that person is not around anymore, though, and he lives accordingly, letting those eyes carry all the guilt and sliding all of it off his shoulders and onto those of the man who created his issue in the first place.

the name of the ship is mentioned and he can’t help stilling for a moment, can’t help feeling that long familiar little twinge of pain and loss in his chest as the memories of that valley come knocking on the doors of his mind once more. he doesn’t let them in often, and he doesn’t do it this time either, simply shrugs them off and hums in understanding as he gives a nod of his head. he doesn’t pry, he doesn’t speak of that very minor but all-encompassing little shift in jaewon’s voice that tells him so many things which he won’t all understand until he gets to know the captain better again, but he tucks the little bit of knowledge away in his mind for later use.

hearing he doesn’t have to get off the ship if he doesn’t want to has him nodding lightly, a certain relief in his chest, because he honestly doesn’t think he’ll feel comfortable enough going anywhere with any of these people except for henry or jaewon himself, but from what he knows of henry he doesn’t venture off the ship often either, and if jaewon is still similar to how he used to be, then the captain is a magnet for trouble and also not someone he would want to be close to in unfamiliar territory too often. he’s already paid for his crimes in war, he doesn’t need to pay for them with more blood.

he follows the captain into a new room, being told it’s his, and he comes to a halt just a little behind the captain to the left, standing there staring out into the darkness that is his reality, having absolutely no idea of what the room looks like. he can’t help it then, can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face as he tilts his head ever so slightly. “amazing,” he says, lets both the amusement as well as the supposed awe be audible in his voice. “it looks exactly like my old room.” a sort of snort follows his words automatically, and he casually lifts his hands to unwrap the gloves from his wrists so he can pull them off. within moments he’s got them tucked under one arm, temporarily rubbing his hands together to get used to the feeling of not wearing gloves again.

on his hands, too, just like on his face, there are an assortment of small scars littered around, a few bigger ones on his fingers from where he accidentally cut himself, and a hug one on the back of his right hand, from where someone else very purposefully did the same thing. he knows where each of them is placed, because they impair the feeling in his hands, but he’s not seen any of them before in his life. none except the smallest ones, the ones that resemble those on his face, the ones that sealed his fate.

“thank you for having me,” he says, turns his head back in the direction jaewon’s at. “if you’re short on cash i can wait for my first payment until you’ve done a job again. it’s not that i desperately need the money, i just didn’t want to let some stranger get away with hauling me across half the verse using my skills for free.” he lifts a hand to run it over his face, fingers automatically tracing the lines where his goggles usually are, and then he breathes out a bit of a sigh. “it’s nice to know you’re still doing well. do you know of any of the others?”

back home

[docvelaw]

he follows the captain - he will have to make an effort to think of jaewon as such now and no longer as his military commander, though the difference is mostly in the word - as he guides him through the ship, listening to every explanation carefully and creating a mental picture in his mind of the layout of the ship, like a blueprint that might still change over time as he gets more and more used to his surroundings. it’s hard to picture what he’s being told without walking through it, after all, and two stairs could have any shape in the world until you walk up their steps and follow their curve. as can rooms and hallways; any place anywhere.

it’s when they apparently step into the med bay, the place he’ll probably be spending a lot of his time aboard this ship - once they have a proper crew again - that he focuses fully, and the the robot, which has been scanning every inch of the place so far to make its own little blueprint, rolls inside eagerly, scanning the surroundings, listing in his ear exactly how few basic first-aid items there are left so he has an instant overview of how little he’ll be able to do here without stocking up first. he himself stays near the door opening, half a step behind jaewon to his left side. he’ll do his own reconnaissance when he comes here alone, on his own time, when it won’t bother anyone that he takes several hours just to run his hand over every smooth surface in the room, to learn them all by heart.

jaewon speaks again, detailing another thing, and he makes a mental note of it in his floor plan of the ship, attempting to connect the two floors together through these stairs as well as the other ones in the cargo bay, but really he’s already a little lost and it will take some time - maybe even a lot of time - to get to know this place within his very bones. it’s been a long time since he’s even attempted to remember more than the singular room he spends most of his time in, hasn’t felt a need to because no place was home for long, and effort didn’t seem like something he’d want to do. but this ship will do the running across the verse for him, and so the least he can do out of common courtesy is figuring her out properly, so that he can help her crew to his best ability.

he turns his attention to the robot when its done scanning, and listens to its last few pieces of information before sighing softly. “print a list of what we need,” he says, already lifting a hand to rub his forehead, because he knows the list will be longer than what anyone would like it to be. “put it from most necessary to least necessary, list the average selling price per item.” he waits for a moment to get the robot’s confirmation, then calmly listens as it rolls back over to him and prints out said list at the same time. “did you print it in common?” he asks, which has the robot let out a few miserable sounding beeps, before he hears the sound of tearing paper and then another list being printed. he smiles softly at it, because he knows he should have mentioned the list was not for him and so did not require braille, but the robot’s dejected sounds always amuse him a little - it has no feelings, but has learned to mimick them in the way he would probably react himself.

“thank you,” he says when he feels the paper being held against his hand, taking it and reaching it out towards the captain. “with what we have i can make do for scrapes and scratches,” he says easily but phrased like the fact that it is. “anything listed above bandages would be very nice to have around at all times, in case there are burn wounds or gun fights or illness. anything under bandages is up to you whether you want to have it aboard or not. they’re very specific things used to treat very specific issues. you know better than me which of these issues occur aboard your ship so you decide what you’d like to stock up on and what not. i’ll make do with the rest.” he realises it’s also been a long time since he wasn’t needed per se but more like giving a chance and so he takes a moment or two to try and formulate a proper sentence of deference to add to that before he gives up and just shrugs.

“it’s been a while since i was under anyone’s command,” he says then, blunt as ever. “i’m afraid i’m not educated on the proper speech patterns anymore. if i’m too crude or should be more respectful, please tell me, i will adapt.” this time his smile is for the captain, an off-brand thing because he hasn’t been around someone he knows and trusts in a long time. “what’s the policy aboard this ship?” he asks after a moment. “is it try my very best to save any crew member or passenger on this ship and screw everyone else, or am i supposed to leave the outsiders and the ones that will probably die so as to not waste supplies on them?”

he remembers a time when he still had ideals, when he would have always fought to try and save anyone still breathing, because people deserved a chance at life. he also remembers that initially this tendency of his had clashed with the workings of war. at this point, though, none of his youthful fancies have survived and so his question is asked without even a hint of emotion, indicating he will accept whichever option jaewon decides on without so much as a raised eyebrow. he’s not here to be the voice of ethics, after all, he’s just here to make a living. oh, how life has taken the life out of him, he realises with a bitterly amused huff at himself.

back home

[docvelaw]

jaewon speaks of making sure any new crew will know not to block the hallways with loose things, and he appreciates it so much that even though the robot could easily help him avoid any such thing, he doesn’t voice it and simply inclines his head in gratitude. there is a difference between following the little robot around blindly forever or being able to learn the ship’s hallways over time so that he can find his way easy on his own if necessary, after all.

then the captain brings the subject back to the mechanic, and though the way he phrases it is crude, the reassurance about henry’s skills is appreciated. even if the man has already worked on some things for him, it wasn’t on a ship out in the black and it were small things. to know that someone like jaewon values henry for his skills mean those skills must indeed be sufficient, for else he knows the sergeant would never have let him stay on his ship long enough to start calling it ‘his baby’. then he thinks of how henry probably also wouldn’t be alive anymore after calling jaewon little brother if not for his skill and the amount of time spent aboard this ship.

so he once again inclines his head in acceptance of the captain’s judgement, then straightens more properly when he’s told he’ll be taken to his bunk. he waits for jaewon to put himself in motion so he can follow, but has barely taken a step when the footfalls stop and then the captain addresses him once more. he smiles softly, because of the courtesy extended by this question being asked so easily and honestly, rather than the captain assuming what he prefers.

“as long as there are no unexpected things in the way i can follow on my own,” he says quietly. “and the robot will alert me of stairs, a step or anything like that, he knows how to recognise those since he has to get over them himself as well.” his earlier little smile grows a bit wider then, as he sees the humour of the situation when he easily adds: “the only time i would like to have someone’s guidance is when we’re on very uneven soil, but on the ship i will be fine.”

he waits for the captain to put himself in motion again before following after him once more, the robot dutifully moving alongside him. when they’ve taken a few more steps, he speaks up again. “is there a sleeping space close to or in the med bay, because that would be most useful for me and i could make it there more quickly in cases of emergency. though if there isn’t i will simply learn the way by heart.”

back home

[docvelaw]

jaewon says exactly that which was on his mind as well about the mechanic - explosions hadn’t been all too rare in his time with the older man - and so for a split second he wonders why on earth someone meticulous like jaewon would keep an engineer around like henry, but then he remembers the way the mechanic spoke of this ship and of the man he’s now talking to, and he thinks even if jaewon might not necessarily agree with all of it, they have been together a long time and so he presumes the mechanic aside from blowing things up, must have also helped get them out of quite a few ordeals.

so he simply takes the words as truth, his head turning along with the captain’s movements as he’d walked away and now as he returns. the sound of the bay door closing makes it a little harder to understand the man, but he focuses more properly on the sound of jaewon’s voice and listens to him explain his reasons for asking the questions. he didn’t think the sergeant would ask him anything out of curiosity or a need to pry, but being given confirmation once more has him nod his head quietly.

and then the questions follow, things he should probably have expected, but that he hasn’t tried to explain in so long that it actually takes him a moment to be able to reply. his earlier smile returns for a moment as he lifts his hand lightly, showing the captain three fingers. “that’s actually three questions, captain,” he says easily, before the hand moves further up towards his ear. it takes him a few moments before he manages to get the earpiece out.

“the robot communicates with me via this little earpiece. i got it an enhanced memory so it stores more information and tends to know what to do from previous experience so i rarely have to tell it what i need of it anymore.” he puts the ear piece back in his ear, then blinks slowly, like a man properly focusing on what he can see, even if it’s so preciously little in his case. “as for my sight, it’s as good as gone. i still see some very faint splotches of light but it’s nothing i can count on. i’ve adapted my way of working over time to fit with how less good i could see. at this point a lot of it is done by muscle memory and touch, but when i have to operate the robot scans the area and guides my hands. without it i could still do it, but it’d be a lot more risky and i’d be a lot slower.”

he curls his hands into fists for a moment, still not comfortable with having to admit to his shortcomings; still holding a burning hatred in his chest as well for the person whose fault it all is. then he relaxes again, as he makes his thoughts wander off to a different subject. “henry said he might be able to add more features to the robot, but i’m a little hesitant to let him try, since it would be a great nuisance if he ended up blowing up my robot. he also suggested if we both worked here he might be able to fix up the med bay with some things to help me with my work - but i presume he’ll discuss that with you first.”

he thinks of the mechanic so easily disregarding jaewon’s earlier displease, thinks also of the man calling the captain his ‘little brother’ and sounding all too cheerful about it. then he thinks of jaewon’s admittance that henry’s blown up a thing or two aboard the ship before, and for a moment he wonders if maybe the mechanic will not discuss anything with the captain first at all. well, he presumes this will be jaewon’s heads up then, and he can interfere before it’s too late - though admittedly he wonders in how far henry actually listens to the person he so affectionately named his little brother.

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[docvelaw]

he can’t help the way his features finally shift, his lips tugging up into an amused little smile as he listens to the sergeant say he’s worth more than him. it sounds like quite a feat to accomplish considering to him jaewon had always seemed like the biggest troublemaker the alliance ever had to deal with - but then he’d never been part of any other regiment than the one under the captain’s orders, so perhaps his opinion is a little subjective at best. he lifts a hand to run fingers through his hair again, a habitual motion he can’t ever quite seem to shake when he’s not wearing his hood.

then jaewon continues speaking, tells him he understands and lays out the details for what employment aboard the man’s ship would entail. he nods his head to them, considering all of it as he hears it, and eventually deeming employment aboard the ship of someone he knows and trusts - insofar as he really still trusts anyone - to be a much more lucrative undertaking than going to any of the other ships currently docked on this planet and trying to find a job there. not many people are willing to hire a cloaked individual, after all, but even less people are likely to hire a blind doctor. does he really have a better option?

“well,” he hums easily when the captain finishes speaking, and he automatically closes his eyes for a moment, because he feels suddenly naked without his goggles in that particular moment. “i’m just trying to earn me enough on the side to maybe get my eyes fixed.” it’s a very far off and quite hopeless goal, but as things are it’s the only thing he has to strive towards, so that is what he does. “i presume with a mechanic and a doctor aboard you might be able to attract more crew and get back into the business of things.”

he pauses a moment, pulls up his shoulders and then lowers them, sighing softly as he once more accepts the inevitable; that he’ll probably be blind for a good many years more. “so why don’t you ask me those two questions, and then you can go make sure your new mechanic is not breaking down your ship. i don’t doubt his skill but his... enthusiasm worries me a little, i'll be honest.”

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[docvelaw]

to be referred to by his last name so easily brings him back nearly an entire decade, to when they were fighting a war together, to when the people he patched up were soldiers trying to make a difference, no matter how useless it sometimes felt at the time. the dents they made in the alliance weren’t necessarily small, but there were always new people to fill their ranks, whereas the browncoats just couldn’t keep up with their losses over time. which made his work all the more important; save as many as you can save, put as many warriors back on his feet.

he automatically motions in the direction he knew henry to last be. “i ran into your mechanic a few planets ago, captain,” he says, and there’s absolutely no sign of mockery as he uses the new titles, simply accepts that the information he’d been given before was subjective and alters it with the new information given. “he helped me out of a pinch and then i helped him out of a few of his as well. it was.. easier to travel together, for me at least, and he seemed trustworthy enough. he said he was on his way to a ship to get employment and said if i wanted to we could check out if they were in need of a doctor. if not he said he’d help me find employment on one of the other ships before we parted ways.”

there’s a momentary pause as he turns, looks down at the little robot at his side. then he straightens back up, and his eyes never really find jaewon properly, there’s nothing for them to see, so they just stare blankly ahead. it’s something he’s aware of, but has long stopped paying attention too, though he tends to wear the goggles almost all the time when he’s around other people because the commentary given on it is something he does tire of more easily.

“i did indeed settle on one of harvest’s moons,” he adds then, to clarify further backstory, sharing with jaewon easily because this man knows nearly everything of his important history and will therefore understand without him having to explain too many details. “they eventually came for me. scoured the planet for me. i barely made it off before they reached me. i’ve been hunted ever since, more so with each passing year.” he makes a vague hand motion at the robot and it instantly beeps and lights up again, showing a different warrant.

“wanted alive. doctor adrien wolfstone. for crimes against the alliance. last seen on angel in 2516. if spotted, immediately notify the alliance.” the robot beeps again, but the warrant keeps spinning for a few moments, the number of credits for finding him alive dancing around like an enticing many-numbered figure.”

“i presume you can see why i’d rather not show my face where i don’t know who’ll see it. the disguise is probably the only thing that has kept me from being captured so far. they keep upping the reward every so often as well, it appears my betrayal hit a particular nerve.” he gives a shrug of his shoulders, expression still neutral, giving nothing away as he simply waves off the entire mess he’s caught up in. “i assure you i can still do my job, but i understand if you don’t want that kind of trouble on board, captain.”

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[docvelaw]

his name is a thunderbolt; unspoken for so many years that the sudden sound of it now goes through him like an electric shock, straightening his posture, every part of him on high alert. when then not just his first name but his last name follows as well, he’s both wary as a little more mollified, because people who know his last name are few and far between, and most of them are on the side he is on, except for a single individual - but that voice he’d recognise out of a billion, no question.

so even if he relaxes ever so slightly, his hands still stay close to where he can easily grab a scalpel should it be necessary and he waits for whatever comes next with quiet resignation. there has long been nothing he could do to prevent harm to come to himself from someone standing right opposite him. he has long had to make peace with the reality that one day someone is going to shoot or stab him right in the chest and he won’t ever see it coming.

instead of pain, though, there are more words spoken, questions asked, the threat of being known, but it’s when those final words fall from lips that he has some way of situating where and when the man might know him from; the war. that doesn’t help him much, of course, but the fact that this person knows of both his involvement in the war and how he’d gone to one of harvest’s moons is enough to tell him at least this isn’t some ex-alliance member. this is one of the rebels and though he can come up with several names of people it might be, he’s hesitant to choose one and choose wrong.

“i apologise,” he speaks calmly once henry has left them, voice still as relaxed as before even if he’s still just as clueless as before. “i do not know who i am speaking to.” he makes a little hand motion in the direction the mechanic used to be. “your brother only ever spoke of you as a brother and of this ship as his baby, and if you knew me during the war you must know of my affliction.” this time he simply tilts his head a little to indicate exactly which failing he’s speaking of just then. “perhaps you could help me out?”

it’s just then that the little robot at his side suddenly gives a few beeps, projector on top lighting up and showing a see-through copy of the warrant out on jaewon’s name. “wanted,” the familiar little robotic voice tells the both of them. “captain yang jaewon. for crimes against the alliance. last seen on a derelict ship called serenity scouring the black. if spotted, immediately notify an official.” there’s a moments pause, then another beep as the light goes back out, the wanted poster disappearing again.

his head, which had automatically turned to the robot as it started making noise, only slowly moves back to its original position as he tries to fully come to terms with the fact that of all the people whose ship he could have stepped on, he boarded the ship of his former general. but what he mostly needs to come to terms with is the way he remembers said man; all hard edges, determination, a single-minded focus on his goal, no space left for pleasantries or softness very often; and the brother henry has been talking of for the last few months of their travels.

“yang jaewon,” he eventually manages to say. then, a little more disbelieving: “general?”

@syxjaewon​

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