a/n: Spoilers for the end of Route A/B and I guess hints at the introduction to Route C, but nothing else beyond that.
He had spent a good portion of a half-hour in his room, alone with the Pod and his uneasy thoughts for company; yet the moment his door opened he nearly jumped. It was funny, almost. He had some time to compose himself as she crossed the threshold.
"H-hey, 2B. I was waiting for you. I needed to give you this."
They were not essentials; just a Speed Salve, a Large Recovery, a Melee Attack [L], and a single sample of the E-Drug he was too afraid to take twice.
2B neither smiled nor spoke her thanks aloud, but he could sense her gratitude. Over the course of their many operations, 9S had come to enjoy being alone with her, just sharing the silence.
Corruption was deeper than skin-level; it felt like he was made of wires, fraying and volatile, and Eve was clawing his way upward and his wrath shook 9S, frail as he was―like a hundred voices screaming to kill kill KILL THE BITCH and avenge a brother he did not have.
2B's hands tightened around his throat and even this was a strange comfort, despite the natural inclination to panic―
―9S reached up, unsure what he would do. He wanted to crush her face in, or he wanted to touch her cheek. He was dizzy by now with lack of oxygen and her features turned fuzzy―
―knew he was dying and it scared him, no longer lucid enough to tell she was crying. He could remember being cradled in her arms, wounded, broken, and she had been warm and safe, her heartbeat synthetic yet familiar at his temple―
―felt himself disperse into many places at once and Eve dissipating, and there was relief―
"Say, 2B?"
She stopped mid-stride and an urge gripped him, to come clean for her: the humans are dead, and the Commander knows it, too. We aren't safe anymore.
No. It would be immeasurably selfish, to destroy her morale mere hours before their next deployment. He had to think of something else.
I'm scared for what might happen (to me/you) next time we're deployed.
9S hated the idea of sounding weak in front of her, even though he was pretty sure 2B wouldn't chastise him. Pretty sure.
It's been an honor, fighting alongside you.
That sounded weird, coming from him. Maybe he was just overthinking this.
I'm glad you're okay, 2B. (Well, she probably knew that already.)
She had turned around to face him while he was deliberating. It was impossible to tell if she was looking directly at him behind her visor, and in the past, he had wanted to believe it. Now the idea left him stricken. How could he possibly face her with the knowledge he concealed?
He opened his mouth and stopped, his chest tightening. It was perhaps a similar phenomenon to the human condition of drowning, an inescapable, irrefutable, crushing, cold weight of existential horror the likes of which Adam and the Commander and all the documents in the Bunker's database could never hope to inflict. It was in his lungs, a vice of emotional impact made tangible.
The desire to spill his fears frightened him almost as much as what he was concealing. It must be obvious. Selfishly, he wished 2B would ask him why.
"It's nothing. Just be careful."
She nodded. And then, unexpectedly, spoke: "You too."
He felt simultaneously sick and happy. She would likely pass it off as nerves, nothing more.
"Planning preparations complete. Confirm equipment delivered to quarters."
She walked through the door and did not look back.
9S released the breath he had been holding.
"God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him."
― Friedrich Nietzsche