Chapter 36: Cross to Bear

Part 2

“You think I could… that I am capable… of that?" He asked the vixen with a tone that was both cautious and perhaps a slight bit expectant. Had she asked that when they had first agreed to make a try at this unusual relationship, or even a day before he left for Katina, and the answer would have been as obvious as was it was negative.

And yet…

His brush with the finality of death had pushed him to, at the least, consider some possibilities he had been otherwise adverse to. If he had learned anything from his time here, it was that there were so many more important meanings to life other than soldiering. And while he could never stop being the soldier he had been made to be, that did not stop him from trying to be more than that. Before he died he would like to effect enough positive change to counterbalance the evil he was directly responsible for. It would be all but impossible to redeem himself for the events of Cyrus IV, but perhaps… just maybe, if he could successfully rear a child, if he could be for someone what he himself had been denied, if he could prove to himself that he could be better than he once had been, it might at least be enough for him.

But even then the concept was utterly alien to the spartan, and he held doubt at even the notion of success.

The vixen smiled at his question, her grin as soft as silk and tinged with the slightest hint of tangible mirth. “I don't just think, I know. You are more than merely capable, Six. I think that you would be an amazing father."

The spartan was uncertain what surprised him the most, that she was bringing this up at that moment as they journeyed through the desolation of a ruined city amidst the echoes of an imminent interplanetary war, or that she genuinely appeared to believe that he had the qualities of a good paternal figure. If he knew anything about himself, it was that he hardly fit the image of an ideal father. The very idea of holding a child in his arms - a child that was his responsibility - was one he could hardly comprehend.

“You must have me confused with Fox." There was a man who would make for a far better father. The vulpine had what it took. He was understanding and warm and kind and everything that the spartan himself was not. Six could see it as clear as day in the way Fox conducted himself, his bearing and positivity, but over all his patient consideration for others, would make any child lucky to have him.

As for himself… well there was nothing worthwhile that he could offer to a prospective son or daughter.

God… even thinking about that felt uncanny.

He was a soldier… no he was less than that. He was a killer that had been fed justifiable cause all his life until he had all but forgotten his humanity.

The humor in the female fox's eyes and expression vanished, suppressed by the very palpable presence of solemn seriousness. “No, Six. Not this time. I won't let you demean yourself." She stopped walking, forcing him to stop as well unless he would break away from her, which, even now as she brought up a topic he was not altogether comfortable with, he could not do. Her paw tightened its hold on his hand and he felt her other arm grasp onto his elbow, as she focused on him with eyes that blazed with unshakeable conviction. And for once in his life the spartan found himself fairly intimidated.

“You are so much more than whatever monstrous image you have conjured around yourself" Her words were spoken with ardent belief, as if she dared him or anyone else to question her resolve. Such firmness banished any confusion as to how much she believed in this… in him.

The spartan was almost startled that she seemed to have noticed his self-defamation, though he arrived at the obvious conclusion that he had not hidden it very well. Reading other people's emotions was easy. He had been trained for that. And yet while he was similarly well-versed in maintaining a façade, he should have known that such efforts would be foolish when a mindreading vixen was involved. In fact he did know from several occasions. But she was so unique that developing a countermeasure to her impressive skill at detection was, for the moment, an impossibility.

“Just look at what you have done for Miyu, for me… for all of us!" She let go of his elbow to bring her paw around to brush across his bandages, and the brace around his leg that even now he could feel the muted burning of his nerves reminding him of his close encounter with his end, a constant pain that would not leave his side for a long time to come.

“All you do is make sacrifice after sacrifice. You keep giving more and more of yourself away. You've given everything to take care of me and the rest of our team. You saved my life, you saved Miyu's life, and you saved countless others since you came here. When I look at you I don't see a monster." She smiled, her thumb tickling the palm of his hand.

“I see the bravest, strongest male I have ever known. I see someone who I would be honored and blessed to raise a child with. All I see when I look at you Six… is the love of my life."

The spartan's initial response to her words had been a prolonged pause of silence and uncertainty.

There was a time, not all that long ago, where he believed he could never experience something as special, as mind-numbingly wonderful, as when he realized how much it was that someone could love a man like him.

He had never been more wrong.

“I…." He tried to speak but could not raise, could not produce the right words to properly express himself in that moment. He was, for the first time in god only knew how many years, utterly and completely speechless.

She believed in him, and somehow the thought that she had faith in him, that she would always be there to help him stand when he faltered, made the prospect of fatherhood less intimidating...  and perhaps even somewhat conceivable. He might not be the best father for a child. In fact he very well may be the worst possible option. But Krystal? There could be no one else better to help him raise one. He took comfort in the knowledge that even if he failed, she would not.

But he could not allow himself to forget what he was, no matter how her words made him feel.

Where she looked to find sacrifice, he took as just recompense.

What she called devotion, he knew as duty.

Where she could see bravery, he felt only bitter resolve.

He was not a heroic man, not like she thought he was. And he only felt hatred for himself when he saw that wonder and love in her eyes as she adulated a man he knew he wanted to imitate but could never hope to be.

He was a spartan, not a hero.

Noble Six did not and would in all probability never see himself as described in her piercing emerald eyes, but there was one notion he shared wholly and utterly with her. He may not have honor but he felt honored that she loved someone like him, and he considered himself blessed to be made part to her life.

As he considered these heavy thoughts and took in the devastation around them, forcing himself to recall the past few weeks, he realized that he could not in all practicality begin to even consider such a decision while this threat persisted. There was enough of a burden on him already. He did not think to add to it. Six had been born into a genocidal war, and he knew acutely the tragedies of childhood in such conditions. The spartan would not raise a child into a future so much like his past.

"Perhaps it is best that we discuss this later, at a more… opportune time."  He offered, rather grateful for the credible distraction from a topic he was not yet all that ready to handle. He looked to Miyu, the feline sharing an encouraging smile as she nodded in agreement.

She may not have been part of the conversation, but given her importance to both himself and Krystal, she more than deserved the respect to suggest her own input.

If disappointed by his deflection, Krystal showed no sign of her dissatisfaction as she returned the warm sentiment. “Yes of course, I understand. We should be focusing more on helping Miyu locate her father." The vixen looked to the lynx, somewhat apologetic as she indicated that her friend once more lead the way.

“Perhaps she may even join our discussion on the matter when the time comes."

“Of course." He agreed quickly, more to hasten its demise than anything else. He had no issue with Miyu being a part of this, but he would be glad once the topic had been temporarily dismissed. He was worried enough about their present situation that he did not need to worry about prospective fatherhood while out on the field.

That was an issue better suited for a more private setting.

Some distractions he could ignore without a second thought. But that… that was something different altogether.

“How far are we from your father's residence?"

“Still a little ways to go." The feline admitted, gesturing to the ruined street below them. “But if we follow this road we should make it in good time, maybe another half hour or so."

The spartan stepped away from Krystal and shouldered his rifle as they continued their journey. The action was born from a need to adhere to familiar discipline after confronting such a peculiar subject, rather than a reluctance to stay by her side. She did not seem to mind as she jogged ahead to stand by Miyu, the two women conversing quietly as they traveled.

Six was grateful for that, taking the solitude as an opportunity to distract himself with his equipment. The presence of his weapon imparted upon him the acquainted nature of his occupation, what was a comfort in this occasion, as if he needed to remind himself of what he really was.

He, as he always had when faced with the hardest assignments of his career, took comfort in his onus as a spartan. At first it had been an excuse to deflect accountability, but had slowly evolved into a means for him to accept his fate.

Six, out of the corner of his eye, could see a phantom look of disappointment lingering in Krystal's eyes once she thought he had shifted his focus away from her, as she spoke with Miyu in an effort to perhaps keep the feline's mood from dropping further. It was as if she had not yet been able to round about the conversation onto the true depth of her question.

Noble Six, even in that moment of conflicted thought, still felt amusement that she had not quite yet grasped his capability for silent deduction.

A brief flicker of thought brought young Silver to his attention, for a reason not yet understood. He felt an unusual desire to see the child, wondering if the adolescent had fared well in his absence. Silver had seemed unusually comfortable around him, at least more than a child should have been, and he would admit, to none perhaps but himself and his two companions, to a lingering fondness he shared in return.

He saw much of himself in the young lupine, all of his best, and none of his worst. The kid was a survivor like he had been growing up, unwilling to submit to fate or its cruelties, willing to do what was necessary to survive. Yet he still possessed enough morality to stop from pressing too far.

That was where they diverged.

Something clicked in the spartan's head, like the bolt of a rifle snapping shut.

He looked to Krystal, studying the vixen fixedly as she happily conversed with the lynx, unawares of the crimson eyes that examined her acutely.

No.

That could not have been her purpose… could it?

Had her question bore a more immediate intent?

His grip on his weapon tightened, wandering thoughts on Krystal's agenda forgotten as he noticed the agitated postures of the two women in front of him. The spartan lumbered forwards quickly, placing himself within reactionary distance as he scanned the broken buildings lining the street on either side of them.

Had a foe desired to ambush them, this was as good a place as any.

Six studied Miyu's and Krystal's expressions, taking note of how their ears shifted and their eyes moved. Without his armor enhancing his natural augmentations, they would most likely have superior senses, and he looked to them to form for how he would form his response.

“Contacts?" He broached carefully, keenly feeling the frustration at having lost his Mjolnir and all its benefits.

How could he protect them like this when he could hardly protect himself? His only comfort was in knowing that he would die before he let harm befall either of them.

“Maybe." Miyu answered as she partly lowered her blaster. “I know I heard something, but it didn't sound like those stupid cyber beetles.

He could see Krystal mouth the words cyber beetles with some confusion, but was too focused on the situation to explain. He had wanted to update her on their enemy, but she had been far too concerned with his health at the time to listen. She knew enough to be safe, but he wished he had been able to do more at the time.

“Civilians perhaps?" He suggested hopefully. It was not entirely impossible. The Aparoids had proven thorough in their methodology of extermination, but there was always the chance. One could always hope.

Judging from Krystal's expression, she remained just as optimistic.

The feline shrugged as she let her weapon rest on its slung, cupping her muzzle with her paws and raising her voice loudly. “Hello! Is there anybody out there?"

Noble Six dropped his finger to the trigger of his anti-material rifle, instinctively uneasy at the idea of broadcasting their positon. A low growl, near inaudible, rumbled deeply from the back of his throat as he loomed protectively over his companions.

Rage overtook him.

The sound climbed rapidly in volume as a flicker of movement caught his eye, shattered masonry tumbling down the slope of a ruined storefront. And as a small group of frail figures emerged from hiding, he nearly opened fired. It was only as his rifle was half raised and he recognized the tattered and starving civilians for what they were, that he harshly suffocated his instincts.

The spartan took a stunned step backwards, even as Miyu and Krystal did the opposite, moving to speak with the survivors. He could not hear their soft spoken words and kind expressions of encouragement as they gently coaxed the people from their seemingly permanent state of fear. If not for the deplorable state of those before them, the women might have noticed the distraught torment tearing across the man's confused visage.

Noble Six staggered, a heated palm brushing against his forehead, his hand came away scorching hot at the feverish heat that radiated from underneath his skin. The barrel of his rifle dragged across the rubble strewn street as he stumbled away from those before him in fearful confusion. His finger twitched with inexplicable killing intent and he fought a desperate battle of control as he forced himself to release the trigger.

These were survivors.

These were people he was supposed to protect.

Yet all he wanted in that moment was to wrap his hands around the throat of the one closest and crush their larynx in his murderous grip. He closed his eyes to banish the image of senseless slaughter, but the impossible act was burned into his eyelids. He could still see as he unloaded his weapon, their bodies bursting like ripe fruit under the fusillade, his sense of satisfaction damning at something he could not even hope to comprehend.

His chest burned.

He did not….

He would not…

What was happening?

He felt… so weak… helpless.

The spartan sagged to his knees, the pain of his body forgotten for the cold emptiness that wrapped around his soul so tightly that he could not find the will to breathe. His torso seethed in molten fire and he released an unwanted gasp as his rifle slipped through numbed fingers, the weapon clattering loudly against the asphalt.

The world… it was spinning so fast… he could hardly discern the difference between up and down as he hunched forwards, his guts twisting with sickness. Nausea overwhelmed him, and the spartan grunted as the acidic tang of bile coated his teeth and lips, and his nose burned with the putrid stench of stomach acid.

Hurt… everything hurt.

The pain was mind-numbing, excruciating. It was beyond anything he had ever felt before, not even his augmentations had been this bad.

A soft, wretched wheeze of pain eked pathetically from his mouth as the agony washed over him.

He could hardly think.

“SIX!"

The vixen's shout of fear and surprised shock slammed into his ears viciously, and he felt his abdominal muscles convulse as he emptied the remainders of his last attempt at a meal onto the street below him. Pathetic. Death, all he wanted in that moment was to die, for the suffering to finally end. But these thoughts, they were not his own, they couldn't be. He was not so weak willed. He was a spartan; he was the definition of resilience, his resolve unquestionable.

Wasn't it?

Krystal…. He thought insensately, clinging to the familiarity of her voice, however strained it was in that moment. The pain… the rage… lessened as he anchored himself upon the thought of her.

She needed him.

Hands fell upon him with urgency fueled by haste and concern, the warmth from the pads of her paws soothing, even against the heat that burned his flesh. In his delirium he felt shame. He was showing weakness when he should be her strength.

“What's wrong?" The words, quick and fearful, were directed at the one that held onto him with sheer desperation.

“I don't know… spirits I don't know." The female fox whispered hoarsely, soft fur brushing against his face as she clutched onto him tightly with frantic fierceness. “By the gods above and below I don't understand. He was fine just moments ago." Her breath was hot and rapid in his ears as she hyperventilated, the wetness of her nose upon his temple a soothing sensation as she pressed her muzzle against him and whimpered quietly.

She was scared and confused, unawares as to what had happened to the one that she loved, and helpless to watch as he suffered.

“I'm… sorry." He tore the words from his throat, a painful process, but he forced himself to push through his pain. It was his fault, he had pushed too hard. He had placed his pride before reason. Not even his current condition could blind him to the truth. He had thought himself capable when clearly he was not. And he was worse than useless. Something was not right inside him, he was… sick. But not even that was enough to shake the desolation he felt inside at his realization.

Unbidden anger surfaced, the need to kill briefly tantalizing his mind with sweet succor, promising pleasure and gratification should he give in. Fear overcame him as he recalled his actions previous.

He was not just sick, but he had become a liability.

“No, please don't." Krystal pleaded, her voice on the precipice of hysteria as she cradled his kneeling form and rocked them both back and forth. “Don't apologize… not now… please."

“Miyu… her father…" He had made a promise and he did not break those. He had promised her he would be there for her. He could not afford to be sick, to be a liability. The Aparoids, he had to protect his family.

They needed him.

No. He realized.

They did not need a man; men were weak and easily overwhelmed.

What they needed was a spartan.

Noble Six was not a liability.

It was with a supreme effort of will, surpassing anything he had ever done before, that the soldier forced himself to stand. Krystal cried out at him, the vixen belting forth a hurricane of words as she tried to keep him from exerting himself. Miyu watched on uncertainly, her ears pinned tightly to her skull as she stood helpless.

The spartan pushed through the pain and their fears until he stood once again upon his own two legs. Everything screamed, his legs and arms, his chest and his head, it all was a mess of pain. But he could accept pain. What the spartan could not accept, was defeat.  He reached low, retrieving his rifle as he took a moment to compose himself.

There were far worse things than a little discomfort, failure was one of those.

“Six… are you…" Krystal stood beside him, the vixen's eyes glistening and her posture torn between fear and doubt. For her all she saw was her mate collapse, in the throes of agony. For her his pain was as much her own.

She needed strength.

He would give that to her.

“I will live." He answered her quietly. As much as he wanted to alleviate her concern, he would not insult her intelligence with a declaration that he had been unaffected. It had hurt, but failing her would hurt more.

“I am sorry to have concerned you."

It was only seconds after he felt the sting on his cheek that he realized he had been slapped. It was several seconds more before he truly comprehended what she had done.

She had never, in all the time he had known her, ever laid a hand upon him.

His confidence waivered.

If he had thought what had just happened to be the most painful experience of his life, this proved him wrong.

“You… you idiot." The vixen whispered hotly, her teeth flashing as she bared her fangs in anger fueled by frustration and no doubt another dozen other emotions. Anger, genuine fury, was something he had never seen in her before. Miyu seemed just as surprised, though the feline did not seem overtly upset by the display. Certainly the civilians he had all but forgotten seemed confused enough for everyone involved.

“Stop." She growled dangerously, her fur bristling as she stared him down with irises that burned with verdant fury. “Stop acting like you bear the sole burden of the world upon you. Stop treating yourself like shit. And stop apologizing like everything is your fault!"

Her last sentence was shouted with such vehemence that he nearly lost his footing as the sternness of her resentment washed over him. He was mute before her ire, speechless at such a change from the kind and gentle soul he knew and cherished.

“I… I hate it." She hissed.

Instinct bade him to apologize once more, an automatic reaction when faced with something beyond his control or a fault of his own making. But the severity of her words and expression halted such a natural response. Clearly that was not what she wanted from him right now. What she wanted was for him to shut up and listen.

Not willing to make further mistakes, he did just that.

“You don't have to apologize for weakness." She sighed heavily, taking a moment to compose herself as the anger in her eyes diminished. Her temper, already something unusual, cooled swiftly as kindness replaced the irritation in her eyes.  “You more than anyone else should not have to ask for forgiveness."

What she said seemed illogical to the spartan, who had been raised and trained to do just what she told him not to. Weakness was unacceptable. He could not afford to be weak. Humanity could not afford him to be weak. His family could not afford him to be weak. How could he protect them if he did not have the strength?

What worth was he if he was not strong?

Over time he had come to accept her methodologies, but this was where they disagreed. Yet he could see in her eyes, in the way she looked so close to collapse, that this was not the moment to push her on the subject. He did not disagree because of his past, he disagreed because he could not afford to otherwise. If he was to protect them he needed to be strong. He could not afford to contemplate the very notion of tolerating his faults.

Against his better judgment, he nodded his understanding, vowing in silence to be better than he was now, to be the person she needed him to be, if not what she wanted.

Krystal smiled weakly, muzzle flushing with embarrassment as she rubbed her arms uncomfortably, yet appearing relieved at his answer. “I'm not very good with staying mad. Are you feeling better Six?"

“Yes." He replied with a modest smile. The pain, or at least the worst of it, had passed. And while he did not know where it came from or why, he would push such concerns away for the moment.

“Good…" She nodded stoutly, before throwing herself against him with a whimper now that she no longer had to keep her worries repressed. She was unused to being the sterner of the two, as this undoubtedly went to show. And that was perfectly alright with him, he did not want her to be. It was his duty, one that he would not wish upon anyone other than himself.

“I was worried." She whispered softly, the fear in her voice a near tangible sensation.

His smile lessened a fraction as he held her close, though he would not allow it to fade. She did not need see his torment. He would be her pillar, as he always had. No manner of sickness or ruthlessness of injury would prevent him from being what she needed him to be. What they all needed him to be, he made an addendum as he looked to Miyu, offering her a concise nod that he hoped would convey his stable condition.

He did not know if she believed him.

He did not even know if he believed himself.

But it would have to do.