Chapter 4: The Truth Is Told
Aran ducked back down behind the couch that he had been using as cover, rubbing futilely at the end of his nose. The training bolt had sprayed into the seat's material, and unfortunately not all of the sparks had been absorbed, so they had reached out and tickled the edge of his face with their prickly fingers. He could still hear Cuyan's laughter ringing out from across the room at the involuntary yelp he had emitted, but now the droid had rounded on his brother. He was safe, for the moment at least.
He dropped down onto his hands and knees and fumbled around in the dark, trying to retrieve the metal cylinder that he had accidentally dropped. They had been given leave only an hour ago and yet they had no idea what to do with it. Well, at least he and Cuyan did. Adenn had leapt at the chance to run off and see Raikia, and Orar had bumped into an old friend of his from the 501st squadron. Some of them were currently on Coruscant, but as to why they were here, no one was letting on. That had left him and the resident det man with nothing to do, so they had borrowed a training droid from a weapons store and located the two training lightsabers that a friend of theirs had lent them.
Yes, fighting against a droid where the objective was to bat away the bolts as they came hurtling towards you was a rather strange exercise for a Republic Commando. But what people didn't know was that it was a brilliant way for them to practice their evasive skills and focus their skills of concentration. Seeing as they couldn't just blast the droid as they normally would have done, they were forced to dive, roll and duck away from enemy fire. Without the Force to guide them, it took a lot of skill to be able to deflect a bolt, let alone reflect it back towards the person that it had come from, like some Jedi were able to do.
So far, the pair of them had been able to do neither of these things. However, Cuyan seemed to be having better luck at dodging the little stingers. How he was able to do this way beyond Aran's comprehension, but he was starting to get a little envious of it when he couldn't do the same thing.
"Are you ok, Sir?" Cuyan's voice called out from the gloom around them. To further add to the difficulty of the exercise, they had turned off the lights in the main room of the officer's quarters that Chancellor Palpatine had gotten for them. "Did it get you?"
Aran pushed himself back into a crouch, feeling his leg muscles protest against the motion, but he ignored it. Sir? For some reason, that title had begun to hold more and more contempt in his mind whenever he was called it. He couldn't remember the last time when someone had referred to him by his real name: Aran. "Sir" and even "Sarge" were acceptable to him in formal contexts, but his brothers had become accustomed to calling him that in their private moments. He wasn't sure why it grated so badly upon his nerves - maybe because he felt that his brothers saw him as a leader and not as a vod like them - but he found himself very nearly bringing Cuyan up on it.
In truth, there had been one person who had called him Aran - but look what that had led to...
"Y...yes, I'm alright." His words clogged up in his throat as a wave of pain and guilt washed over him. He cursed mentally and prayed that Cuyan hadn't picked up on his hesitation. Please, oh please, he couldn't let this secret out!
Unfortunately, Cuyan was the most perceptive of them all. A moment passed and then the lights in the room burst to life. Aran had to blink his eyes rapidly to get them to adjust to the sudden illumination as he rose to his feet and dropped the training lightsaber onto the sofa in front of him.
As expected, Cuyan was standing there watching him, bathed in sweat to toe and still holding the laser weapon in his hand. The expression on his face was one of a confused scowl, his dark eyes searching across the Vod leader as if he was looking for a small indication of what had cause his brother's unease.
Another heartbeat passed before the det man must have realised that the emerald blade was still aglow, and he shut it off. When he finally spoke, his voice was full of fire from a man that had had enough of everything and was on the verge of break down, "Sir, I can't take this any more! What's going on with you?"
"Nothing, Cuy'ika, honestly." Aran forced himself to meet his brother's accusing stare. "Honestly. The shot has just mussed up my brain. Let's continue."
As he leaned over the back of the sofa to retrieve his lightsaber hilt that he had abandoned, an EMP grenade bounced off of the cushion that it was resting on and sent the weapon skittering away from his reach. He instinctively shrunk back as he expected the det to go off, but it didn't.
Cuyan now rounded the couch and stood right in front of him, his eyes still burning with an annoyed flame, but his expression had softened into something that resembled concern. He reached out and gripped the Vod leader's shoulders, and it took every inch of Aran's will power not to flinch away. "Sir, you can't keep doing this. What's gone wrong? First Orar starts acting all aggressive, then Adenn makes secrets with Raikia..." The Vod leader winced involuntarily at those words, and Cuyan trailed off.
The squad's det man suddenly clamped down harder on his shoulders. "He's told you something, hasn't he? What's he planning to do?"
Aran shrugged his brother's grip off of him and walked away to flop down on the sofa. He raised an arm to cover up his eyes, as if he was hiding his gaze away from something. "No, he hasn't. As far as I know, they're doing great."
Cuyan followed him, pausing to drag a small coffee table forward as he then sat down on its edge, still watching him. "Then what's bothering you about them? You got all jumpy when I mentioned Raikia. You got a problem with her or something?"
Aran's eyes widened as he peeked out from under his arm up at his brother. Would it hurt if he knew his real, dark secret? The one that was really bothering him? The one that would tear apart the squad in unimaginable ways? "I swear that you're Force sensitive, Cuy'ika."
Cuyan gave him a pleasant smile, but he could tell that it was forced. "If only. That training droid would be cut in half by now if I was." He leaned over to pick up a discarded piece of cloth to dry himself off with. "So come on, tell me what she's done or I'll have to use a Force mind trick on you to -"
"I slept with her," Aran blurted out suddenly, unable to let his brother continue as a sharp pressure pressed down on his chest. He couldn't keep it bottled up any longer, not when he had the chance to rid himself of some of the burden of this awful truth.
The demolitions man froze, turning his attention back to his confessing brother out of the corner of his eye. His face was a picture of so many kinds of emotions: anger, betrayal, shock and a little relief. He paused for a long moment, and then when he finally did speak; his voice was a mere whisper as he realised the consequences of knowing such a secret, "Me'ven? Are you serious?"
Me'ven, a Mandalorian exclamatory phrase that translated to "what". It was hardly surprising that Cuyan had reverted to their mother tongue, as if he was afraid that some other people might over-hear of his brother's treachery. But the Vod leader, on the other hand, was past the point of caring. "Yes, ner vod. I'm serious."
Cuyan opened his mouth a few times to speak, before closing it finally as he tried to compose words into a plausible sentence. This was like the ultimate act of betrayal, a personal treason. How could anyone fool around with the love of a relative's life? "Well, how many times? Once? Twice?" His gaze narrowed into an even more accusing stare. "Three? Four times? Did you have a full blown affair?"
"Twice!" Aran exclaimed, and then lowered the tone of his voice to something that he presumed was calm. "Just twice!"
"Just twice?!" Cuyan practically yelled, and then he too followed his brother's example and hissed, "You aruetti! How could you be so dini'la, you hu -"
The demo commando stopped himself from saying the final word, eyes wide as he realised how much his anger had consumed him. He'd nearly called the Vod leader the worst possible name that a Mandalorian could be called: a hut'tuun. The literal translation into Basic sounded meagre - a coward - but when it was used against a person that had originated from a culture bred on warriors, it was very serious indeed. What stung worse than the insult, however, was the look of hatred that passed across the clone's face as he had spoken those words.
It all became too much for Aran. He squeezed his eyes shut as guilty tears welled up behind them and pinched the bridge of his nose to aid the effort. It didn't stop a few tears leaking out onto his cheeks though. He heard shuffling as Cuyan moved and sat down on the sofa with him, and then felt a strong hand grip his spare one in an unshakeable hold. That made him feel all the more worse as he squeezed his brother's comforting hand to try and suppress a whimper of pain from escaping. How could he be so sympathetic after what he had done?
Opening his eyes, the Vod leader locked onto the teary-eyed gaze of the resident det man. His brother looked the most apologetic that he ever had done, and that despite of everything he loved no matter what. It wasn't forgiveness, but it gave him the strength to explain everything,
"The first time it happened was when we were undercover with those terror cells, a year and a half ago," He paused, waiting for Cuyan to acknowledge that he remembered. "I couldn't cope with Besbe's death, so while you went out on a recce with Ad'ika, we went out to drown our sorrows. One minute we were reminiscing, and the next we were kissing. I don't know who instigated it, but neither of us stopped. And...you can guess what happened from there."
"And were you drunk the second time?" Cuyan prompted him carefully, trying to keep his tone of voice neutral. It barely worked.
"No," Aran said simply, and had to break eye contact. He couldn't bear to see the judgemental expression that must have passed across his brother's face.
The det man had also looked away as he tried to contain the sense of anger that was threatening to consume him. "Ar'ika..."
"I didn't mean to, Cuyan, I swear!" The Vod leader looked back at his brother again, his eyes showing a look that pleaded him not to think of him differently. The one thing that mattered the most to Aran - alongside their safety - was how his brothers saw him. "Things just happened and now I can't get her out of my head. It physically hurts whenever Ad'ika mentions her. I've been living like this for over a year, and I can't take it any longer."
Kal'buir's lessons hadn't taught Cuyan how to deal with a situation like this. He didn't know what he could say to make things go back to the way they used to be. He was torn: torn between two brothers he loved dearly. Unable to find words, he simply pulled Aran up to a sitting position and dropped a heavy arm around his shoulders as his brother buried his face into his hands and let the tears flow freely.
