Arknights | No Hero

[veryroundbird]

Rating: Piquant
Words: 1225
Characters: Dur-nar, Frostleaf
Relationships: Gen
Summary: Frostleaf requests newer Rhodes Island recruit Dur-nar go on a mission with her, to clear the air between them; Dur-nar gets a chance to ask a question that's been on her mind for a while.
Notes: 2021 Pride Month request for themaskedtaquito!

Content Notes:

---

Rhodes Island's path across the southern edge of Columbia at least wasn't too far off course for their mission. Dur-nar's not a big fan of hiking, and it's tough to elbow out the vehicle requisitions crowds, especially since some people keep crashing aircraft or setting their ATVs on fire.

Still. It's a long walk with someone who's not much of a talker, and the operator she now knows as Frostleaf has gotten a lot less chatty since—

...well, since the last time they were able to talk to each other. She wasn't always this quiet, Dur-nar thinks. The kids were always a little rowdy, in the Junior Army. Now all of that has been refined into something strong and sharp and less wild, and Dur-nar wonders if that's for better or worse or both.

Frostleaf just keeps her headphones planted firmly on her ears, though, eyes sweeping the horizon.

They set up camp near a ridge with good range of vision. Dur-nar's not as military precision as she used to be, but between the two of them, it's quick work. No fire; they don't want to draw in any attention.

She feels like she can even see the stars in this part of the country, in the total dark. Maybe it's just her imagination, though, or a trick of the light from the moons.

"I thought you were going to ask," says Frostleaf, eventually.

Dur-nar shrugs, horizontally. "I expected you'd tell me why you requested me on this mission, specifically."

There's a pause, and then a gentle hmph, from across the way. "You seem awfully at peace with yourself. Mostly."

"We've all changed a lot, seems like," says Dur-nar, and there's a little swish of fabric, like Frostleaf ducking her head self-consciously. "I mean, it suits you. I hope who I am now suits me."

Another thoughtful pause. "I wanted to see what kind of person you really were, now," says Frostleaf, finally.

Hah. Well. "What do you think?"

"I think I haven't seen her yet," says Frostleaf, quietly. "But I will." There's a rustling, and the sound of a zipper; and then, the slight dull sound of aluminum on aluminum. "Here."

Something cold presses against Dur-nar's hand; it's a can. She blinks down at it. "If you wanted to invite me out for drinks, you could have done it on Rhodes Island and saved us both the trouble. And gotten better than this weak stuff."

There's the sound of a can opening. "Don't dull your reflexes too much, Lieutenant," says Frostleaf. "Or I'll be disappointed. We're on the move again before the night's up, remember?"

Dur-nar snorts. "My tolerance is better than that." But she pops open her can, and raises it in a mock-toast. Never know when you're going to have your last drink; might as well savor it.

They drink together in silence in the dark for a while, until Dur-nar's had enough to ask the question that she's been mulling over for a while. "Why'd you do it?" she asks. "Sign the letter, I mean. The other kids, sure, I get that. They didn't go the long way 'round like you did."

She means being a mercenary; she means going back out to fight and die like I did, and she's sure Frostleaf understands. Dur-nar did the whole circuit, too—cop to security officer to merc to whatever the hell else made ends meet, which was how she found out Frostleaf was still alive in the first place.

Frostleaf's quiet for a long time. There's a tink, tink in the dark, like her tapping her beer can on the blade of her axe, and then makes a tch noise under her breath. "You mean, why did I suggest you come here, if I was going to be confrontational?"

Hah. "Well, if I was a few more drinks in, maybe that's what I'd say, yeah. I cooled off, since those days. I was practically a kid, myself."

"Hm." A quiet rustle; an exhale. "I don't know. I'm not good at explaining these things. I don't know what I'm feeling most of the time."

"Yeah...?" Frostleaf was never really this introspective when she was younger, either. "So..." Dur-nar swirls the beer in her can. "Do you regret it?"

"No," says Frostleaf, immediately, and goes quiet again for a little bit. "Some things, I can't just put aside so easily, when they're in front of me. I still have the scars, you know."

Dur-nar's hand, near her sword, twitches involuntarily. Yeah—neither of them were going to forget that one anytime soon. Frostleaf goes on, though: "But when I got to Rhodes Island—they made me stay out of combat for ages. Working desk job stuff—organizing the recording library, helping out with the outfitters, that kind of thing. Doc said my job was 'convalescing as a patient.'"

It's the most Frostleaf has ever spoken to her since Dur-nar signed on with Rhodes Island. "So—I dunno. After I got back into the field, I realized I'd changed a lot. A lot of stuff terrified me that I didn't care about before, like dying. A lot of things shook loose in my head, like—feelings I hadn't had room for. I still don't know what to do with all of it."

She sighs, quietly. "But I still remembered your face, boss. I thought, maybe if I could get some kind of peace—maybe you deserved some of it, too. Even if we ended up on different sides, later—the shit you tried to do for us kids who never knew anything else, that I couldn't appreciate at the time. When the dust cleared, you looked—" A pause. "Empty, I guess."

...Did she?

There's a lot about that day that's a blur, whether it was from stress or the entire bottle of whiskey she drank afterward, and when she woke up the next day in the base drunk tank hearing she'd cussed out the brass and broken a bottle over a superior officer's head she honestly couldn't regret any of it.

"Not like I did anything heroic," she says, shaking her head to herself. "If I had..."

The old refrain, that's haunted her through all attempts to drown it out: If she had, maybe all of them would be alive.

"There's no such thing as heroes," says Frostleaf, flatly. "I didn't ask you out here because you're a hero."

"Yeah, you asked me out here because I'm hot," says Dur-nar, without missing a beat, and gets the satisfaction of hearing Frostleaf spit out her drink.

"I asked you because—"

Because, Dur-nar knows, they both know what it means to be making up for something the whole rest of your life. She's figured that was the more or less the sentiment the whole time, even if she also kind of figured Frostleaf was also going to try and punch her at some point. (Which she does, while explaining in her own clumsy way, albeit without much feeling behind it.)

Frostleaf's right, though. Heroes aren't worth much at all, because for one thing, if they were, the Army would have kept cutting her pension checks while still plastering her face all over their recruitment brochures.

But maybe it's for the best. Because, after all, if they'd paid her fucking pension, she wouldn't be here, now, would she?