Birth and Re-Death Ch 17: We All Talk Through Some Stuff, a fire emblem fanfic

Birth and Re-Death

Chapter 17: We All Talk Through Some Stuff

"So this is what fighting Risen on the Northroad is like! I'd heard rumors, but I was forced to miss it last time."

"Randall, I appreciate that you're having a good time, but please stay focused. HYAH!" Chrom replies, punctuating his sentence with a wide swing that takes a Risen fighter's head off.

"I'm plenty focused, thank you very much," I protest as I raise my staff to block an incoming merc's overhead swing aimed at Chrom's head, knocking the monster off-balance.

"Fair enough," Chrom says, switching places with me and using the momentum to fuel a stab through the stunned Risen. Yanking the blade out, he turns back to face me. "Behind!"

I whirl around, swinging my staff into the Risen behind me and knocking its lance's stabbing motion off-center, causing it to narrowly miss. Repositioning my hands on the staff, I use the bottom end to smack down on the shaft of the Risen soldier's lance, which forces the soldier to drop it. Not wanting to waste time, I quickly follow up and hoist the staff over my shoulder, then stab the bottom end into the Risen's broad throat. The good thing about such formidably bulky enemies is that they're hard to miss. After a moment, the creature dissolves.

It's so much nicer when the enemy dissolves like that. My hands can stay clean.

Looks like that was the last of– Whoosh HOLY SHIT WHAT WAS THAT– Oh, it was an arrow. I just narrowly avoided having my skull perforated. Looks like an archer was hiding behind a tall tree a little ways away.

As the archer nocks another arrow, Chrom steps up beside me and picks up the fallen soldier's lance off the ground. With impressive precision, he launches the lance at the Risen, smashing it through the chest and knocking it on its back before dissolving it.

"That's gotta be nearly all of them, right?" I ask, looking around for more.

"If there are any left, I don't see them," Chrom replies. "Let's meet back with the others."

As we walk back toward the caravan, Chrom looks my way. "So, you're getting pretty good at that, Randall," he says, nodding toward my staff. "Have you ever considered taking up a lance for real?"

I shrug. "I guess? I haven't given it much thought."

That's a lie. I've been thinking about it a lot, actually. I still don't have an answer that I like.

"Well, Frederick has been preparing to start teaching me some lance techniques myself pretty soon. Although," Chrom shoots me a confident grin, "did you see that throw? I might already be further along than Frederick expects!"

I smile at him. "I was going to say, that was a crazy throw! Honestly, I just assumed you've already been learning."

"Not formally. I just pay a lot of attention to what Frederick and Sully do on the battlefield when I get the chance. Still, I have a feeling I have to learn a different set of skills than what they typically use. They're both mounted in battle, after all, and I don't have… the most amiable relationship with horses myself, let's say." He grimaces. "So I need to learn how best to use a lance as an infantryman. But I was thinking, you could get some formal training as well. From what I saw, you've at least got an instinct for it."

I don't say anything for a moment. "I dunno, Chrom. Maybe it's not for me."

A voice sounds out from ahead of us. "I'd beg to differ." Robin strides forward to join us. "I agree with Chrom; you should be learning whatever skills you've got an aptitude for."

"You've been trying to get me on the front lines since we joined up! I'm starting to think you just want to off me, Robin," I say.

"Precisely the opposite, Randall," she replies. "I want to make sure that when put face to face with an enemy, you don't get offed."

"If I'm the one who's face to face with an enemy, wouldn't that mean that somewhere along the line, it's your strategy that failed? Healers shouldn't ever be facing down the enemy, right?" I say smugly.

She scowls. "Alright, wiseass. I suppose I should be flattered that you think my strategies are so ironclad. Still, no plan in history has ever been absolutely airtight. A good strategy isn't just one plan; it's having enough plans to account for every possible variable. That includes the possibility of you ending up facing down, say, the captain of a company of wyvern riders, or perhaps a brutally powerful dark mage noblewoman. You know, unlikely events like that."

I can see she's got the upper hand. "Fine, fine. Can I… think about it?"

Her shoulders slump. "Sure. I'll talk to you later." She goes off to see to the rest of the team.

"You two are getting along nicely, I see," Chrom says with a smirk.

"Is she like that with everyone, or does she have it out for me?" I ask.

"Once she spots a potential in someone, she latches onto it. It was her that pushed me toward learning lance skills myself, some weeks ago. I think she's trying to get Vaike to show Lissa how to handle an axe as well, though I can't imagine why."

"The woman's a hazard," I say with a sigh.

"Professionally, I will maintain as I always have that her tactical genius has saved us on several occasions, which justifies her eccentricities. Personally… you wouldn't hear much argument from me," Chrom replies.

"So does that mean you keep her around for her looks?" I ask, smirking.

"Robin? No, I wouldn't say that." He pauses. "Oh gods, that sounded so much harsher out loud. I just… I mean, she's not exactly my type, you know what I mean? I just don't think I could think of her… like that."

I stare a bit. "I was kidding, but damn."

"Ah, you were just joking. Of course. My apologies." He looks quite thoroughly embarrassed.

"And just what would your 'type' be, then?" I ask.

He sighs. "I'm not entirely sure. Robin… she pulls us into battle. I know it's because it's her job, and she does a good job, but when I look at her, I'm reminded only of the war we've dragged her into. The war she's leading us deeper into. She's a steadfast companion, but I think I need someone who reminds me to pull away from battle, not press into it. Does that make sense?"

I'm a little stunned. "Wow. That's some heavy stuff."

He puts on a worried expression. "Oh gods, I'm sorry to dump all that on you, and over a joke, too."

I hold up my hands. "No, no, it's not that. I guess I'm just surprised you let all that spill to someone like me. I'm flattered."

He laughs. "I suppose that is a lot to put on a person. I don't know, Randall. You just seem like you'd understand. I can't really talk to the others about this. Frederick is so duty-bound, he wouldn't give me an honest opinion. Vaike is such a meathead, I can't count on him with this either. Lissa means well, but she's such a meddler, I've learned not to tell her anything I don't want the whole world to know."

I can't resist. "Have you thought about bringing this sort of thing up with Cordelia?" Imagine Chrom going to her for relationship advice. She'd probably pass out.

"Cordelia? I'm convinced she's not too fond of me," Chrom replies.

If I'd been drinking something, I'd have done a spit take. "Excuse me? What makes you think that?"

"I don't know, it just seems as though she clams up whenever I try to talk to her. It seems like she's been avoiding me for years. I suppose I must have done something to slight her, and she has yet to forgive me."

Oh, you poor girl. It really isn't meant to be, is it? When someone reaches this level of obliviousness, I fear there's no going back.

"Randy, Chrom! Are you both alright?" Maribelle asks, approaching with a staff in hand. "If either of you are injured, let me know straight away."

I smile at her. "Thank you for worrying, but we're okay."

She gives a satisfied huff. "Good. We could do with more battles where you emerge unharmed, Randy."

I put on a mock-scowl. "Though I will say, I'm hurt that you don't think I could heal us up just fine myself."

She scowls right back. "Well for starters, healing staves don't work on the user unless they're Balmwood, and I'm currently in possession of the only one we have. And for your information, I have every confidence in your ability; I was simply trying to be kind."

"I know," I say, tapping her nose as I walk past her and toward the caravan.

She blinks, then starts after me. "Hey! You can't just– get back here!"

Chrom waits a moment, mouth open as if to say something, but decides against it and follows us back to the others.

I'm trying to keep pace with Fleur-de-lis, but because the horse walks faster than I can, I'm having to jog every few moments to catch up with Maribelle.

"You know, Maribelle, you could get your horse to slow down a little bit so I could keep up a little easier," I huff.

"You mean more easily, Randy," she says.

"I know, but – huff – I'm trying to – huff – conserve my breath as I go," I retort as I jog back up to her side.

"That's no excuse for being poorly-spoken," she says, smiling smugly down at me.

"I think you just like watching me put forth all this effort to be next to you," I say, moaning internally as Fleur-de-lis starts pulling ahead again.

"Are you suggesting I might be manipulating you arbitrarily to bolster my own ego? The very thought!" she says dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. "I'm appalled you could think such a thing of me."

"Well, if it truly can't be helped, I will go talk to somebody who makes it a little easier to keep pace with them," I say to the back of her head, veering off to the side toward where Vaike and Lon'qu are walking.

"Wait, wait," Maribelle says, pulling up on the reins and slowing her horse. "I was just having a little fun with you is all."

"Same here," I reply, joining her at her side. "I was planning on keeping pace anyway."

"How gentlemanly of you," Maribelle giggles.

"I try, I try."

A brief moment of silence passes.

"So, Randy. As often as we spend time together, I don't often get your thoughts on the war, even with it going on all around us. What do you think of it?" Maribelle asks.

"What's with this all of a sudden?" I ask.

"Well, if you and I are going to be a… a couple, we should be able to be open about this sort of thing, no?" she replies, reddening slightly at the word 'couple'. "I just want to know that you're alright, I suppose."

"Oh. That makes sense. I'm fine, I'm pretty sure. Except for the times we're actually fighting in it, I don't think I worry about it too much. Why, what do you think about it?"

"I worry for Lissa, more than anything. She must be having such a tough time, what with her elder sister leaving to go back to Ylisstol despite the Plegian army already having broken through the border. She must be worried sick for our fair Exalt. Lord Chrom must be beside himself as well. Things may very well be going in a dark direction if the royal guard cannot keep Her Grace safe from harm. These are such uncertain times."

How can I reassure her honestly, when I know for sure that at least some of her worries are well-founded? "I'm sure that things will work out," I offer weakly.

"How are you so sure of that?" she asks.

"Because even if they don't, it won't have helped to worry about them now when there's nothing we can do. We have to believe in each other and in Emmeryn, because if we don't have faith, we'll be in a bad way before we even meet the enemy."

"I… suppose you have a point, Randy," she says after a moment. "We must keep believing, mustn't we?"

I nod. "It's the best thing we can do for now."

We walk in silence for a while.

"I'm sorry," she says at last. "We had a cheerful mood going, and I soiled it. I suppose I have a habit of doing that, don't I?"

"It's okay," I say. "You're just concerned for your friends and your country. No one can fault you for that. And if part of being with you is being the person who hears about these worries, then that's okay too." I offer a smile.

She returns a smile, briefly, before it drops from her face. "But I suppose my point in all this was to make sure that you are alright. We've been in battle so often lately. I worry for you, being so recently introduced to the life of a soldier. If you've any stresses that ail you, I want to know about them."

Oh boy. I've got plenty of stresses, Mari. Not least of which are the dreams I've been having pretty much every night lately about our mutual dead friends. Those are fun. Or the weird numbness I've been feeling every time we go into battle. Or the fact that I know for sure the Exalt is going to be captured and I was powerless to stop it. Or the heaps of confusing and conflicting feelings I have about taking up arms in this war. I guess you could say I have a lot going on in my head.

But when I look at her face tightened up with worry like that, I know I can't say any of that to her. She's already worrying herself sick just fretting over what's going on in her own head; I don't need to add another mental person's woes on top of that. There's not a lot I can do except play along with the story for now, but I can at least protect her from my own head.

"I appreciate it, Maribelle. Really. And if I do have worries that I can't cope with on my own, I will come to you with them, alright? But try not to worry so much on my behalf. I will be fine, I promise. Will you be okay too?"

She studies my face for a moment. "If you say so. I will do my best not to worry, as much as it requires that I defy my own nature."

"Thank you for that," I say.

Is it starting to snow? Oh God.

I've been given the unpleasant assignment of second watch. First watch is okay, because you haven't really gone to bed yet, so even though you're tired, once you're done you can sleep the rest of the night. Third watch isn't great, but it's not the worst; it's just waking up earlier than everyone else. But second watch is a bummer because neither the sleep you get before the watch nor after it is all that satisfying. It feels like I've just gotten to sleep when it's time to wake up for the watch, and then I have the same feeling the next morning when everyone has to wake up to start the day.

Since watch teams are comprised of three people, there's normally at least some decent conversation to be had (in hushed tones, but still). On this occasion, however, one of the watch is Lon'qu, and he hates talking. The other is Robin, but all she wants to talk about is potential routes and strategy for the next day. As far as I'm concerned, all the routes are the same, and all these strategies she's going on about are accounting for events that are too far-fetched to happen. Plus, since Robin is a woman, Lon'qu doesn't even want to sit with us, so he's watching the north side of camp while we watch the south, sitting on an overturned tree next to the road.

So needless to say, I'm not in the best mood as I sit freezing my ass off, peering down the long slope that we spent a good portion of our day slogging up. We must be getting close to Ferox now with all the chilly air and up-and-down terrain we've been dealing with for the past few days.

"But if we do stop in town, that would mean a potentially unnecessary detour north. On one hand, the supplies would no doubt be nice, but it adds as much as two days to our journey if the weather gets as bad as I think it might. But then again–" Robin continues her one-sided planning meeting.

"Alright. Let's go to town. I think everyone's been getting a little crazy just marching day in and day out. If we don't break up the monotony soon, I think someone will lose it," I say, just to stop her weighing the pros and cons over and over.

"That's a good point too. Hmm…" She places a finger to her chin. "Okay. Then we will stop in Darros Town tomorrow and hope we don't get held up too much. Oh, but what's the best road to take then? If we take the road straight there, we open ourselves up on the sides to–"

"No offense, Robin, but I really don't want to talk route planning right now. At least, not for the fifth time tonight," I say with an exasperated sigh, pulling my cloak tighter around myself.

"Well, what do you want to talk about then?" she asks.

"I think literally anything else," I reply with something between a chuckle and a shiver. The wind is starting to pick up.

She thinks for a moment. "Want to tell me why you're so hesitant to take up a lance, then?" she asks. "Back in Ylisstol, you wanted me to teach you to use thunder magic, and I know you've been working with Frederick and the others in physical training as well. You seemed pretty excited when," and she looks around, "when I handed you that sword the night we stopped Virion's debt collectors. What's with the hesitation now?"

"Can we not talk about this either?" I ask.

"You did say 'anything else,'" she reminds me.

"Oh, fuck off!" I snap back, and someone in a tent nearby snores sharply, reminding me to keep my voice in check. "Look, it's nothing. Okay?"

She frowns. "It very obviously is not nothing. I'm not going to make you do anything, so you can stop worrying about that. I just want to know what's up. I know I seem like a… what did you call it? OCD, I think it was. Anyway, I know I can seem like I want to micromanage everyone and mold them into my perfect little soldiers. To an extent, that's not… wholly unfair to say, really. But I'm also doing my best to make sure that everyone is alright in their heads too. If there's something eating at you, it's my job to make sure there's at least one person willing to listen."

I worry for you, being so recently introduced to the life of a soldier. If you've any stresses that ail you, I want to know about them.

"That's great and all, but I'd really prefer not to get into it."

"I mean, if you prefer, we can take another look at which path to Darros Town offers the least net risks when we account for weather, possible brigands, known Risen portal locations–"

"God almighty, please stop."

"Then tell me what's up, Randall."

I can tell from her expression that she really does mean the best for me. I suppose I also believe her when she says she won't force me to do anything. I sigh. "I guess the best way to put it is that I'm a little afraid."

"Of what? Combat?"

"Kind of? Not the fighting itself, I guess. Like, I'm not scared of getting killed or anything." Not anymore, anyway.

"I… see," she says slowly.

"Like it's not the enemy that's scary. It's me. I've had to kill a few times now, and while yeah, they were bad dudes and it needed to be done, it's still got me a little… wigged out."

"Why's that? Do you feel bad for doing it?"

"Not exactly. It's more that I feel bad that I don't feel bad, if that makes sense. Like I think I should feel the emotional weight of killing another human, even if it's a human that probably deserved it. But I don't really feel much of anything."

She's quiet for a moment. "I mean, is that a problem?" she finally asks.

"Don't you think so?"

"I don't know. I would think it makes a soldier's job easier. If you have to kill either way, I mean… doesn't it make it easier to deal with?" Now she's frowning too. She turns to face forward.

I shrug. "I don't know either. I'm certainly not an expert on the subject. Before this summer, I'd never killed anyone before. Hadn't been a soldier before. Really, I'd never met anyone that you could say needed to die. This is all pretty new to me, even now. But I'd played plenty of games about killing people. Like, the objective was to kill the bad guys and save the world, but I knew it was all a game, so I didn't really feel anything most of the time. But now, I'm in a real war, fighting real people. And I keep waiting for it to hit me that it's not a game anymore. And it hasn't hit me yet. And I'm wondering when it will. If it will." I feel a lump in my throat.

Robin doesn't say anything for a minute or two. With her hood up like that, I can't even tell where she's looking. I feel like I should say something, but I can't think of what I can say after that.

Finally she speaks. It's hard to hear her over the wind. "I understand. I didn't think anyone else knew what that was like." Her words are slow, calculated. "As a tactician, it is my job to know the battlefield. To analyze the enemy, their strengths and weaknesses, and weigh them against ours. Where to move which troops, and when, and who to trust to carry out my plan. Whether we can win a battle just by taking out the commander, or whether we'll need to take out all of the enemy before we can say we're safe. How many people have to die. Which battles will give our soldiers the experience they need to survive the next battle, or two battles, or however long the war takes. Numbers. Probabilities.

"When it comes to battle, people can be broken down like that. How hard they can hit, and how hard the enemy's armor looks. What tome the enemy mage is using, and whether our myrmidon will survive if he's hit with it. Whether or not we can get everyone out alive. So far the answer has been yes, but I don't know if it always will be. And if it's not, how many can be saved. Who should be first priority, and who is expendable. I think about all of it, all the time." She looks at me, but in the dark and under that hood, her expression is hard to read. "I break the enemy down into their numbers, and work out the best way to beat them. I break our allies, our friends, into numbers too, and stack those numbers against the enemy's. And I'm good at it. Really good. Dehumanizing the battlefield, making it like one of those strategy board games I've been playing with Virion, is easy, almost second nature. It scares me sometimes how easy it is."

I nod slowly. I understand everything she said, but I'm still processing it.

It looks like Robin really does read the battlefield like it's a game. Like a player does.

"Well, I'm glad you're so good at what you do. Your strategies work, and they've saved our asses. Every person in this army has you to thank for leading us to victory in every situation," I say.

"I know. That's what I tell myself. This army needs me to do what I do. I have to be impartial, able to make the tough choices. So far, the choices I've needed to make have been easy, because none of our friends have had to die. But I wonder, if the time ever came when there was truly no way we could get everyone out… how easy it would be for me to give an order that I knew would result in a Shepherd's death. I guess I'm scared that I would let the number-crunching, unfeeling side of me make that call, and I wouldn't understand in that moment the gravity of what I was doing. And by the time I did, it would be too late for it to mean anything."

I'm not sure how to say what I'm thinking. How do you say something that addresses basically the same problem you're trying to solve for yourself? "Looks like in a way, we're kind of in the same boat. Maybe to a lesser extent on my end, the way you tell it. Well, let me put it to you like this: I've never been scared of putting my life in your hands. I know that on the battlefield, I can count on you not just to do the expedient thing, but the right thing. You're right that so far, the two have been one and the same, but if you ever have to make that call, I trust you. More than I trust anyone else to make a decision like that. Moreover, I've seen you with the others. You try harder than anyone to make time for everyone in the Shepherds. You're always making sure people are doing alright, just like you did for me tonight. I saw you dancing and singing with everyone else the night we all sang as a group. I'm not scared of you losing sight of the humanity of the people around you. I'm not saying it's dumb to be worried about it, but I want you to know I don't think you'll turn out like that. If it helps to hear it from me."

I can't see the top half of her face at all, and her flat mouth makes it impossible to tell what she's thinking. Wordlessly, she scoots a little closer and throws her massively-sleeved arms around my shoulders. As best as I can manage wrapped up my cloak like this, I awkwardly try to hug her back. We sit that way for a couple minutes while she takes slow, deep breaths. When she pulls back and scoots away, her hood slips down. A guilty smile plays across her face.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I just… I needed to hear that. Thank you."

I smile back as best I can without my teeth chattering. "Any time."

Robin looks up at the sky. "It's looking like it's about time for third watch. Let's go get Lon'qu."

I stand up, my joints popping from stiffness as I do so. "Gotcha. I'm ready to go to bed."

She rolls her shoulders out as she stands as well. "No kidding. If we're going to Darros Town tomorrow, it's going to be a long march."

I chuckle. "So is that your final decision, boss lady?"

"Yes, yes it is. I agree. Everyone needs a detox in town, I think," she says.

We get the next watch up, and retire quietly to our tents. I lie in bed and stare at that black tent flap for a while.

"Oh, fuck off!"

I wake up with a shiver; it looks like this tent isn't the best for stopping winds of this strength. At the very least, I notice, it isn't thick enough to stop the words on the wind from drifting past the tent. He sounded so frustrated just now. What is he talking about? I don't recall who else is on watch tonight.

As aware as I am that it is incredibly uncouth to do so, I will admit my curiosity gets the better of me. Being careful not to nudge the lightly snoring Lissa as I do so, I crawl to the front of the tent to hear better what is being talked about.

"Like it's not the enemy that's scary. It's me. I've had to kill a few times now, and while yeah, they were bad dudes and it needed to be done, it's still got me a little… wigged out."

That's Randy, no doubt about it. Is he afraid of something? Something he did?

"Why's that? Do you feel bad for doing it?"

So that is the person with whom he is having this conversation.

These worries are plaguing him, and he said nothing to me? He promised to confide in me if there were ever concerns that he couldn't handle alone, yet here he is, trusting someone else with these feelings he never shared with me? Does he think me a child? Someone who can't be trusted?

I remain at rapt attention, listening to him pour his heart out to Robin. Hearing him share these thoughts that haunt him makes me want to cover his head and protect him, as well as beat him over that same head for lying to me about such important matters. I want him to trust me the way he seems to trust her.

After a time, the wind gets so strong that I cannot hear them anymore. Agitated and cold, I duck back into my bedroll. I don't know what, if anything, I will say to him when next we speak alone. A few minutes later, I hear them stroll past the tent. I lie back and try to get to sleep myself.

Beside me, Lissa snores peacefully as ever.

Did I mention that the day after second watch duty is always awful because you don't feel like you got proper sleep the night before? Yeah, that's still true, except this time, with snow. And wind. And snow being swept around by the wind. I don't like it.

But there, on the horizon. Could it be? Yes, it's a town. Civilization! Food! Fire!

I turn to Vaike, marching beside me. "Do you see it? Darros Town! There's our destination!"

He cracks a grin. "Looks like it. I'm about ready to get out of this wind, I will say."

"By the way," I say, eyeing his torso. "Have you considered putting on a cloak, or maybe an actual shirt for starters?"

He raises a hand. "Hold that thought. Something's going on up there."

I look up ahead too. He's right; looks like quite a few people are rushing to get outside the town walls. We're a little too far back to hear them very well, but I could swear I hear the word 'bandits' as they come streaming out.

Oh boy, did my dumb ass just walk us into a paralogue?

A/N: Hey there kids! In celebration of the fact that finals are coming to an end for me, I took the opportunity to churn out another chapter. This one got a little heavy, huh? I hope y'all liked it nonetheless. I'm trying to come up with a way to differentiate between scenes that are from another character's perspective versus dream/flashback sequences without getting either confused with real-time Randall scenes. Maybe I could put one in bold and the other in italics? Maybe it's fine as is? Let me know what you guys think. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!

P.S. Since last chapter went up, this story passed both 150 faves and 250 followers! Thank you all so much for the support! I hope my work lives up to your expectations!