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Trust and Hatch (pt. 2)
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Net awoke to someone smacking his face, and he jumped up in surprise, nearly rolling off the bunk, and would have had a hand not grabbed him. He blinked up at the shadow of a figure looming over him in confusion, shaking his head slightly against the fog of sleep. He could make out the familiar features of a face very much his own, yet not, in the subtle ways of one of his brothers. Quite used to decoding these minute differences, it still took Net a few moments to recognize the form beside him, but at last a scratch of recognition surfaced.
"Hatch?"
The trooper nodded and made an urgent gesture for Net to get up, standing himself and slipping off the bed with a clack of boots to the floor.
"Hurry, get dressed."
Net had grown accustomed to being woken up and called upon in such a manner frequently, so it was with ingrained habit that he immediately set about getting dressed. He rose and pulled open the drawer beneath, glancing at Hatch as he dressed.
"Is someone hurt? Where's Surge? You're not even stationed at this complex. What're you doing here?" He pulled the medic's tunic over his head, choosing not a bodyglove but the non-combat uniform in preference of dressing in haste. Hatch hadn't said anything in opposition so he guessed it was ok.
The trooper above his bunk began to stir at the commotion, and raised a head groggily to peer down at them in the darkness. Luckily there was no one else in the room to disturb at that hour.
Hatch didn't answer and Net looked up at him, eyes narrowing with growing concern. He hadn't known the other man long, but had enough of an impression to judge him of a much more vocal disposition. But the other trooper was regarding him thoughtfully, chewing on the inside of his cheek in thought. And when he spoke, it was with a hesitation that betold he was choosing his words carefully.
"We need you to come. It's...something with Miss Emilie."
Net's eyes widened, and the trooper above him shot upright, nearly colliding with the ceiling and suddenly very awake.
"What's happened to her?"
It was only then that Hatch realized it was Fetcher. They'd met briefly that morning before they'd interviewed Emilie. He knew only that the kid had been her patient along with Net, and had no idea as to his closeness with the nurse. But he guessed there was some small friendship there by the way he had reacted. Hatch glanced at him, then back to Net.
"We need to talk to her, and we thought it might be better if you were with us."
Fetcher jumped down from his bunk and began dressing quickly without another word. Hatch raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"You need to talk to her right now? In the middle of the night?" Net clipped his belt and the sound was loud and sharp between them. His eyes flashed with puzzlement and slight accusation.
"The sooner the better."
"Why?"
"Something's come up. About the case."
He had both their focuses now.
Net pushed in the drawer beneath his bunk with his boot and stepped to the doorway of the room to wait. Fetcher was nearly dressed in his off-duty uniform and Hatch stood between them shifting from one foot to anther uncomfortably before pointing to Net's med-kit which sat on the room's small table.
"Bring that."
Net and Fetcher looked in the direction he pointed then back at him in confusion.
"To speak with Miss Emilie? Why?"
Hatch's face scrunched a bit before he looked at the ground and he ran a hand over the back of his head as though immensely embarrassed.
A look of realization crept across Net's face and Fetcher stood frozen in the act of putting on his boot, eyes wide and leaping between them.
"Because I shot her."
...
The speeder ride to Emilie's apartment wasn't a very long or talkative one. The nurse's address was in the database and easily looked up, and she lived not far from the hospital. After receiving clearance from Steel, (who Trust had spoken with and who had promised to update the Lieutenant of what was going on), they had climbed into the speeder Trust and Hatch had arrived in and headed out. Hearing a summarized version of the night's events from his brothers, Net found himself inclined to reach much the same conclusions they had about the whole scenario, as much as he didn't want to. A small clench of fear had laid claim to his stomach, along with a combination of curiosity and a small tinge of betrayal. The mixture of which set his stomach roiling, and he assumed Fetcher's as well, who sat silently beside him, eyes resolutely on the window. Trust and Hatch were wordless themselves, except for the occasional query over direction.
They sped down the night-lit byway, other speeders and crafts whizzing by in neon streaks, the effect lovely but as lost on them as they were in their thoughts.
The apartment complex where she lived was neither fancy nor shabby, a middle ground in appearance and location. Unpresuming, but trim and tidy. Fourteen floors with an attached parking area and small, landscaped path to the lobby.
They took the turbolift to the eleventh floor, and made their direction by the door markings to the last apartment on the left. Their feet made no sound against the carpeted floor, although their passage echoed slightly off the surface of the walls. Trust and Hatch stopped a few doors down, hovering there a moment before slipping their backs against the side of the hallway and letting Net and Fetcher approach the door without them.
They had no idea if Emile was even home, or what her reaction would be, but they guessed two familiar troopers in plain uniforms were perhaps a bit less threatening than those in standard and impersonal armor. And if she made a break for it and somehow got past Net and Fetcher, Trust and Hatch could grab her. Or at least try to. There was a wordless hope among them that that wouldn't be necessary.
There was also the thought that she might be incompacitated beyond the ability to answer, which had Net on edge.
Hatch was certain he'd only shot her in the arm, but the darkness often told a different story from the light. And they were all hoping for a little more of that to be shed on the situation as Net lifted the back of his hand to the door, somewhat hesitantly, and they waited.
...
The knock made Emilie start, and she rose slowly from the couch, heart hammering and sliding a sleeve over the bandage she had applied not so long ago. She took a moment to close her eyes and collect herself, a few slow breaths slipping from her lips.
For a brief moment the urge to flee consumed her thoughts...but this was the eleventh floor, and there was the possibility the visitor was harmless. She didn't live in the most secure building and had had several curious and amusing night-time visitors before. Perhaps this was just a coincidence.
She took one last deep breath and stepped to the door, letting a mask of calm fall into place as she did so.
But when she opened the door, the two men standing there were enough of a surprise to make her blink in true confusion.
"Miss Emilie, may we come in?" She recognized Net by the familiarity in his voice as well as his manner, although he wore a uniform and not the armor she had seen him in before. He swept a quick gaze over her, head to feet, before settling on her face, and there it seemed to linger, searching for something.
Beside him stood Fetcher, in a similar uniform of grey and he wore a stoic expression, although his eyes betrayed turmoil.
Emilie looked between them both for a moment before throwing a quick glance over her shoulder, then stepping into the hallway and shutting the door behind her. She stared resolutely up at them with as much confusion as she could muster. It wasn't hard, as she was very surprised, although her mind was burning with half a dozen emotions, making the steadiness of her voice forced.
"Is something wrong?"
By most accounts she appeared purely curious. But Net was a learned reader of hidden expressions and surpressed emotions, and the fear that danced behind her eyes was as obvious to him as the color of the blouse she wore. Seeing that tempered the accusations burning in his mind drastically and he frowned, unsure of how to proceed now that she stood before them.
Fetcher shifted at his side, perhaps wanting to speak, but not knowing what to say, or simply deferring to his older and more experienced companion.
Finally, Net let out a sigh and lifted an arm palm up, expectantly, eyes locked on hers.
"Let me see your wound."
"What?" She blinked, and crossed an arm over her chest to grip the hem of her collar tightly.
"Where you got shot." Net continued, "Where...Hatch shot you."
'What?" Emilie heard her own voice crack as she spoke and brought a hand to her mouth in genuine shock. They did know it was her. But how? And, that had been Hatch?
She hadn't known that.
She found herself fumbling backwards until the the door was hard and cold at her back, her hand gripping the trim so tightly her knuckles contrasted vividly against the dark metal. She looked between them, unable to hide the guilt and fear she felt rising in her throat.
But both troopers raised their arms in a placating manner and took a step back.
"We're not going to hurt you or anything, Miss Emilie," Fetcher said reassuringly, his eyes shifting to Net for affirmation.
Net raised an eyebrow, and they were both clearly horrified by her reaction to them.
"Of course not. We just came to see if you were alright and to...talk." He looked at her and gave her a smile. Small but genuine. "We're not going to shoot you, Miss Emilie. At least," he looked to his left with a quirk of his mouth "...not again."
"Ack! You're never going to let me live that down..."
An exasperated voice came from down the hallway, and Emilie pressed off from the door enough to look that way, suddenly more curious than afraid. Two more troopers were reclining, arms-crossed at the end of the hallway, although the one who spoke stood upright, flinging his arms out as he spoke.
"I mean, I didn't know it was you...when... I shot you." He articulated each word with his hands as he approached. When he reached them he took off his helmet and looked down at her apologetically. "I really didn't."
Emilie looked up at him, hands jumping to on her cheeks. "I had no idea it was you! Are you alright?! I heard you scream and thought I had hit you by accident somehow."
She stepped forward, fear forgotten, medical instincts taking over. She ran a hand over the chest-plate of his armor and panned it with her eyes, determinedly inspecting it and the trooper beneath for damage.
Net and Fetcher looked on with slight amusement and Hatch just blinked down at her.
A chuckle came from down the hallway, and Trust finally approached.
"Aside from being a terrible shot, he's fine ma'am."
Hatch swiveled to fix him with a glare.
"Trust?" Emile glanced at the last trooper who came to a stop beside her. His expression was unreadable from behind his visor, and his armor was unmarked, but he inclined his head when she said his name. She shot him a highly apologetic expression, but he just shook his head with a snort and shrugged.
Net cleared his throat suddenly, and purposefully, and their eyes fell on him. He gestured for her arm.
"Oh." She shook her head but held it out to him. "It's just a graze."
"All the same. I'll have a look." Net rolled back her sleeve and inspected the bandage, lifting it slightly to peer underneath before re-wrapping it firmly.
He nodded to Trust and stepped back, although he gave Emilie a friendly nod as he did so.
"If it's alright Miss Emilie, we would like to ask you a few things now."
They all watched as she let out a long breath and closed her eyes, head lowering before she raised it again and fixed them all with a small, but rather embarrassed, smile.
"I do owe you guys something of an explanation, don't I?"
She glanced back at her door for a few moments before nodding, although to them or herself they weren't sure, and hit the button to open it. They followed her inside.
The apartment was small, but prettily decorated with cheerful colors and wooden floors. A kitchenette with a breakfast bar to the left and living area to the right. A sofa and lounge chairs on a woven carpet. Lots of candles. Trust and Hatch concluded it was a civilian (or perhaps a female thing), the candles. They seemed to pervade the homes of every civilian they had so far met.
They all took seats at Emilie's gesture, taking in her home with various levels of interest. It was obvious that Net and Fetcher had never been in a civilian home before and were more studious in their gazes than Trust or Hatch, who's focus lay more with Emilie herself. She sat between Hatch and Net on the sofa, with Fetcher and Trust having each taken a lounge chair across from them. She sat demurely, although alert and with a small amount of unease hovering about her, but her face had an honest and determined edge.
"...So you didn't know it was us."
Trust initiated, and Emilie glanced at him before nodding.
"I didn't." She looked between him and Hatch. "Sorry. Your armor is the same."
"Don't we know it."
Hatch crossed his arms and looked at the ceiling before lowering his eyes back to her and shaking a finger. "Tarkin's latest orders. No personal markings that differentiate from the regular Coruscant Guard paint job. Only the commanders are allowed to keep theirs."
Emilie frowned, sensing it must've been a bit of a sore spot for them. "If it makes you feel better, mine's unmodified too," she offered.
"We noticed that." Hatch glanced at her, head tilted in inquiry. "To be honest, we thought you were a guy."
Emilie laughed.
"Well, that armor belonged to a man. I never got around to getting a set of my own."
"Was it your father's?" Fetcher jumped in, curious.
The young woman shook her head.
"I won it, in a fight. It was my prize for winning."
Fetcher looked like he was about to ask something else but Trust interjected, purposely taking control of the conversation once more. He still had on his helmet, Emilie noticed.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Why didn't you tell us before?" His words weren't quite accusing, but there was a hint frustration behind them. "If you had told us you had armor, or that you were going to investigate on your own..." he trailed off but the implication hung between them all, loud and clear.
You should have told us.
She lowered her gaze guiltily, lips tightening. She hadn't meant to be purposely deceptive. And she definitely hadn't anticipated the events of the night. Neither was it lost on her that things could have gone very badly.
"I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean much now, but I am. I honestly didn't see my armor as relevant. And I didn't...think. When you mentioned those symbols, and showed me where they were, I just. ..didn't think." She shook her head. "All I saw was a possibility to find the creep who bombed the hospital. That place, it's like my sanctuary. It's the antithesis to my life on Mandalore. You have no idea how much it, and everyone in it means to me."
"We believe it, and your actions are understandable given that. We just don't get it. We thought you said you weren't one to participate in Mando customs."
"I wasn't. At least, I wished I wasn't. My Father taught me to fight, and made me fight, even though I had no stomach for it. Probably, mostly, because I didn't want to." She let out a breath and shook her head, pale curls bouncing as she did so, hands clenching and unclenching subconciously in her lap. "We were laughing stocks, he and my mother and I. My father has something of a name in our clan, and I was an embarrassment." She gave them all an even look, a flash of resentment in her eyes. "He made sure I atoned for that by fighting constantly."
A long moment of silence passed, but Trust seemed satisfied with her answer, halting further inquiry, although his gaze was still on her.
"It shows."
Emilie looked up at him sharply, defensively, years of degredation drawing out the defensiveness within her. But his words hadn't been spoken in snark, but rather something akin to admiration. She felt her defenses dropping slightly, hackles sinking, and regarded him questioningly.
He pointed at her.
"You, miss. Kicked. Our. Shebses."
He spoke slowly, deliberately, punctuating each word with a jab of his finger in her direction accusingly.
She blinked at him in surprise and a silence fell over them, before Net chuckled and Hatch started cracking up. Fetcher gave her a wide grin and Trust's helmet swiveled between them all.
The mood was apparently contagious because soon Emilie found herself drawn into a fit of hearty giggles by their example, and wrapped her arms around herself and doubled over, although she managed to squeeze out a muffled "sorry!". Which brought forth another peal of merriment, the remains of the tension of the night leaving them and fading, like bubbles snapping in the air.
It was a good feeling. So very foreign to her in context they were discussing. She hadn't ever thought she'd find the subject of fighting a laughing matter. After a few minutes she rubbed her eyes and glanced between Trust and Hatch.
"I still don't understand, though. You didn't seem to recognize me in the beginning. How'd you figure out it was me?"
Trust suddenly seemed to find the carpet beneath his boots fascinating, and said nothing. Hatch looked at him and snorted, eyebrows quirking and hands on his hips.
"I have no idea, Miss Emilie. He doesn't go around sniffing women."
Trust raised his head sharply, and they all guessed it was to glare at Hatch, although his face was hidden. The other three men laughed.
Emilie sat blinking at Trust, dumbfounded. "That's why you hesitated?"
He looked at her for a second, before giving a curt nod.
"You had me! You would've won if you hadn't."
He shrugged and she finally laughed, but it was good-natured. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you didn't knock me out."
She continued earnestly, eyes slipping over each of them in turn. "And I'm grateful you guys came. To talk. I'm still actually...confused by it all. Given the circumstances, I'm thinking you guys are taking it easy on me and perhaps even... bending the rules a little. Don't tell me it's all because I was your nurse. Or simply because you know me." As she spoke, she felt herself growing slightly apprehensive. While she was certainly appreciative, she also wasn't one to prefer kindnesses of pity or familiarity in extenuating circumstances. Her childhood had taught her that was a backfiring thing to expect, and a dangerous place to linger. "I'm not one for preferential treatment or favors, even if you mean well."
"You think that's the way of it?" Net looked surprised, and perhaps a little stung.
"We're not being unduly sympathetic, Miss Emilie." Trust leaned back as he spoke, one foot balanced on his other knee and lifted a hand, palm up in a gesture of appeasement . "Looking at the facts, the screw up was on our end. We questioned you, and then supplied you with a dangerous location to investigate, fully knowledgeable that you had a stake in the case. And then we confronted you in a hostile manner first. After which you didn't engage lethally. Not even when cornered or fired upon. Not even with prime opportunity, and obvious ability. You may not have been completely honest with us, but our expectation of that was...honestly unreasonable at the time." He shook his head. "If anyone's the receiver of preferential treatment by proximity tonight, it's us. "
Emilie found herself staring at him.
The open and honest respect, concern, and comraderie she felt at that moment from each of the men before her was suddenly very nearly overwhelming . It hovered over her, foreign, yet very comforting. She took a moment to take all four of them in, casting a long, good look at each in turn, studying. Memorizing. Her heart, after years of being hushed harshly in the face of anything but fleeting surface of companionship, told her it was something worth remembering.
Perhaps picking up on this, Fetcher gave her a large, sheepish grin.
"Although...it is a little because you're our friend, too, Miss Emilie."
"...And because you smell nice."
Hatch wiggled a finger at her and gave her a wink just before Trust's helmet collided with his head.
...
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Thank you for your reviews guys! I really do appreciate it. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it. I love focusing on friendships and companionship in the face of hardship or struggles. That's my favorite part of life, I guess :)
Ms CT-782: I really need to go back and fix it, ha. ;)
CaptainReb: I think I've been watching too much Psych and Sherlock lol
And this storyline will probably continue and progress further later on although that's all I have written for it now. But the characters will definitely be showing up in other tales down the road.
Sorry for the longer wait. Crazy stuff going on, and we finally decided to paint walls which have needed painting for an embarrassingly long time.
Rex is up next in a goofy story about him, Appo, Ahsoka, Anakin and Padme at a bar. (What could go wrong, right?) And then a Lex chapter. See you guys soon. Hope your day is a good one today!