Nothing is mine.
1.
"Allistaire."
He said his own name to his reflection, and thought of his old one. He thought, "Corso." Corso hadn't disappeared. Corso had left his things in Allistaire's room. Strategic military histories, accounts of weapons, of generals, advanced statistics and probabilities books. Corso had left his gun collection, his knife collection, even some hand grenades and a laser saber. Corso had chosen his clothes, every single one of which resembled a uniform. Corso had chosen Shin as a lover, and had left Gren. Left Gren... why? Because Gren was too needy, to sweet, too goodhearted, too beautiful. Because Gren was who Allistaire would have chosen.
He and Gren had met doing reconnaissance on foot. One of the most dangerous missions you could be sent on. Corso had been chosen because of his skill and lack of fear. He had thought Gren had been chosen because everyone wanted to get rid of him. Gren tried to make small talk the whole way to the Neptunian base. Corso grew more and more astounded each time. No one tried to talk to him after they saw what he could do. Gren was so unlike any other soldier. He talked more. He gave him a close-lipped smile every time Corso looked at him. If he hadn't been so confident about being a nice guy Corso would have been annoyed. It wasn't until Gren spotted a glint in the distance that Corso missed and pulled him out of a bullet's way and took it in the shoulder that Corso had any respect for him. He remembered, Allistaire remembered, Gren didn't even groan. Had gotten back up and moved on, pulling out the bullet without any expression on his face and filling the wound with sand.
For all of Corso's presumed superiority, it hadn't been Gren who had been caught. It had been Corso. And Corso, despite the implanted deadly thread in him that made others fear him despite his looks, still looked for all the world like a girlish little boy. He was eighteen. He was blonde. The Neptunians were all dark-haired. They hadn't even noticed Gren. Gren hadn't made himself noticed, hadn't defended Corso when he was pulled aside. But then, the people that picked him up were backed up by a tank. And when they threw Corso out, days later, his back torn into strips, near the final stages of dehydration, Gren had been waiting for him. Hauled him over a shoulder and brought him to a cave. He gave him water, and the first thing Corso had said to him was, "You're so stupid." And Gren gave him that close-lipped smile, and Corso's heart had dropped into his stomach. Maybe the torture had reminded him of previous torture, of the torture that had turned him into this. Maybe he had remembered himself, briefly, as Allistaire. Maybe it was Allistaire whose heart had dropped.
"I have maps of the base," Gren said. He turned Corso onto his stomach and pulled off the remains of his shirt, and treated his wounds with an antiseptic. They had to wait a few days for Corso to be in shape to leave. They had to wait for the wounds to fight off two days of infections, and finally scab over. Through it all Gren made small talk. Bless him. They were lovers by the time they left.
But when the White Tigers told Corso it was over, that he had another mission, that there was syndicate war now and they needed him to be a spy, he left and didn't look back. Had managed to push Gren from his mind. And perhaps it was Allistaire whose heart had dropped when he met Shin, but Corso liked him better.
Allistaire turned to his chessboard. The only thing that was really his. He'd been a bit of a prodigy, and Julia had encouraged him to play. He sighed, and started to pull the books off the shelves. He knew the weapons probably had to remain for a while, until they figured out a way out of this place, but at least he could get rid of the books.