Archive of Our Own ^beta

It Still Bleeds

Alpha meets the youngest of his cadet batch by seeming happenstance. The CC, only two standard,  is already trawling through the files of the terminal he sliced into when Alpha slips in. Before Alpha has a chance to assess the situation, the cadet has already scanned him with a guarded expression before clearly dismissing him. 

Thrown by the ad’s gall, and a little impressed, Alpha crosses his arms over his chest and does his best impression of Prime threatening a whipping. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Same as you, I expect.” The CC doesn’t look up from his clearly filched data pad. “Aurek-010 was reconditioned today but no one knows why.”

Fear seizes Alpha cold in his tracks but he doesn’t let it show on his face. He has more authority than the ad. If worst comes to worst and they get caught, he can turn the cadet in and pretend that’s the purpose for being out after curfew. That decided, Alpha shifts his weight and raises a demanding eyebrow. “And what makes 010’s business any of yours.”

That earns him a flash of all too familiar fury. He knows before the cadet tugs down the neckline of his uniform what the first two numbers will be. 

“Given that he’s the sample I was grown from, I’d like to keep my neck off the chopping block.” Then the anger is carefully packed away into a blank expression better than Cutlip has ever managed. “Thought your lot was supposed to be better than we are.” 

“We’re more independent.”  Alpha says slowly, considering his options. “Better soldiers, maybe, not a better army.” 

1010 seems more confident than he should be that Alpha isn’t going to turn him in. That means the kid either has a means of escape that he can get to before Alpha can snatch him, likely given this is one of Cutlip’s line, or he’s petty enough to enact mutually assured destruction. Also extremely likely just based on Cutlip. 

Or… who Cutlip was. Aurek-010 isn’t really much of anything at the moment. 

1010 just snorts and glances up at Alpha through long fluttering eyelashes. “You mean you’re more disposable and your alliances end where personal risk begins.”

“What do you know about us?” Alpha hip checks the ad hard enough to send him sprawling to the ground so Alpha can take the data pad. “You shouldn’t even know we exist.” 

1010 rolls his eyes. There’s no warning before he leaps and scampers up onto Alpha like he’s a training climb. His legs squeeze tight around Alpha’s neck in the threat of a chokehold but it’s not much of a threat given 1010’s size and inexperience. “I know just about everything they document, which is just about everything.”

“I see.” Alpha would chalk that up to typical cadet overconfidence but the slicework really is nearly undetectable and the data he’s scrolling through is being downloaded into neat dossiers on five of his batch. “So you’re the 10 but why look up 22, 36, 50, and 64?”

“I’ve got batchers and they’re terrible at covering their tracks.” 1010 sighs with all the overwrought dramatics a cadet can muster, albeit with more skill than most. “They’re worried about me because I’m one of like five 10s right now but my record’s spotless. They’re the ones racking up demerits trying to protect the CTs.”

“You don’t even have a demerit for a badly timed sneeze?” Alpha asks. He’s charmed despite himself. 1010 isn’t Cutlip, isn’t really anything like Cutlip beyond the same minor changes in facial structure. There’s no reason Alpha isn’t confiscating the data pad for himself and dumping the cadet back into a pod other than he doesn’t want to. “Pretty sure everyone has those.”

“Not me.” 1010 drops his chin to rest it on the top of Alpha’s head. “I’m pretty good at convincing natborns to do what I want, which is why I have a proposal for you.”

“Do you?” Alpha can’t help if his rumble is faintly amused. The cadet has balls of steel if not the good judgment to know which people are too dangerous to blackmail. “And what makes you think I’ll listen?”

“You already are listening.” 1010’s voice pitches with deliberate annoyance. “Look, you want to keep your batcher alive. I want to keep mine alive. Fair’s fair.” 

“Sure. You want me to believe you have some sway over the natborns that’ll save my brothers and not yours.” Alpha doesn’t bother to temper his disbelief or adjust his movements so the cadet doesn’t tip off his shoulders when he bends down to shut everything off. 

1010 squeezes his legs tighter around Alpha’s windpipe in response. “No. I can make 010 stop trying to kill himself.”

Alpha wets his bottom lip and tries not to hope. “Tell you what ad’ika, I’ll let you try.” 

—

The second time Alpha sees his cadet is when his pod slides open, unprompted, mid sleep cycle.  Alpha is one of the top pods and yet he’s somehow face to upside down cadet face with 1010. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“Spending the night.” 1010 drops onto the pod and makes himself at home. Suddenly, with his tiny nose tucked against Alpha’s collarbone, 1010 feels more like a tubie than a cadet.  The tiny body that Alpha wraps a hesitant arm around feels delicate and warm where it curls up against him. Each of those bones are so fragile. 

Alpha’s scared he’s going to shift too far and crush 1010. 

Still, he splays one too large hand protectively across the span of 1010’s back. He’s dubious about the idea but despite common sense telling him to send the kid back to his own pod, he doesn’t want to. He wants to punch the button that’ll close the sleep pod back up and cuddle the tubie until morning. 

It has nothing to do with the tear tracks he can see now or the way Tenten is shuddering with waves of violent emotion. 

“What about your brothers?”

“Fuck them.” Tenten presses closer against Alpha, seemingly melting against the pressure of bare skin. “I didn’t mean that, it’s just. They’re mad at me so I decided I was gonna sleep alone and now…”

Now the cadet doesn’t actually want to sleep alone. 

Alpha sighs and resigns himself to waking up early as he slides the pod shut. He’s never considered just how thin his blanket is until he’s trying to tuck it around Tenten. He doesn’t think that the shivering is from the temperature but he doesn’t know what else to do. 

Little cadet fingers tangle in the curls at the base of his neck that Alpha can never quite manage to trim on his own. The absent scratch of tiny nails is soothing. 

 Usually Cutlip helps Alpha keep the back regulation length but he’s still only just recovering his memories and his hands shake too much. 

“What are you boys fighting about?” Alpha asks. He’s not sure why, it shouldn’t mean anything to him. He shouldn’t have entertained this deal in the first place though and his reasons for that are some that he has no intention of examining. 

Like a good soldier, Tenten doesn’t sniffle. His voice sounds rough but that can be explained away as barking too many orders and any tears could be from an injury. “My training is different than theirs.”

Alpha hums in acknowledgement. “Which difference this time?”

“I got pulled to torture train the tubies.” Tenten says. He’s matter of fact; the same tone that they all use to talk about the storms raging outside. “They can’t be mad at the trainers.”

“So they’re mad at you.” 

“They’re scared for me.” Tenten corrects with a heavy sigh that warms Alpha's skin. “So I picked a fight to make them mad at me instead.”

It’s a stupid thing to do but also something Cutlip has done. 

“They’re gonna flip the fuck out when you’re not there in the morning.” Since Alpha hasn’t figured out how to knock sense into his brother yet, he doesn’t bother trying to educate the tubie. “That’ll make them hover more.”

“Maybe, but then Thirty-Six will knock my teeth in and get everyone worked up about that.” 

“Know everything, do you ad’ika?”  The tubie’s hair looks soft and so Alpha gives in to the urge to pet through it with his free hand. 

Tenten leans into the touch with obvious bliss. “I don’t know that language.”

“Mando’a.” Alpha offers. They need to sleep. He has drills at asscrack o’clock and he knows the tubie will get decommed if he’s caught in with the Aureks. That means Alpha has to get up early to make sure that Tenten is up and out before that. He can’t afford to lose more sleep than he already has. 

He doesn’t want to sleep.  He wants to stay awake so he can remember every moment of holding the cadet. 

It’s a bad idea, terrible even, but that doesn’t stop him from offering, “Impress me and I might teach you some.”

“And know what the trainers call us?”  Tenten snorts to interrupt the yawn escaping him. “Thanks. Wet droid and meatcan don’t hurt my feelings enough.”

“Go the fuck to sleep.” Sap kicks up against Alpha’s pod from below. “You’re gonna get us all decommed.”

Alpha can’t see it but he just knows that Tenten is rolling his eyes. The little cadet slams his heel down on the pod, for all the good it does him. His foot is maybe the length of Alpha’s palm. Then Tenten goes still, like he’s waiting for some sort of negative reaction from Alpha. 

“Sap doesn’t mean it.” He reassures, wondering if the ad is scared of getting decommed. Probably has to be, given that he has Cutlip’s failures hanging over his head. 

“I know that.” Tenten’s voice stays placid and barely audible but there’s still a note of offense. “I don’t… I wouldn’t endanger you. I know the trainer on duty in this area tonight. If he pokes his head in, I’ll tell him you wanted a turn and then suck him off. I don’t get clones killed.” 

“I didn’t think you do.” Alpha digs in deep and reaches for every scrap of his training to outwardly unmoved. It’s almost impossible with the way the blood in his veins turns to ice and his rations threaten to make their gorey reappearance. “Which trainer?”

“If I wanted to be bitched at, I would have stayed in my pod.” 

“Right.” Alpha swallows down the urge to punch the ad. Tenten isn’t one of his brothers and that hadn’t worked with Cutlip anyway. “Go ahead to sleep.”

Tenten sighs, making it clear that he knows the topic hasn’t really been dropped, and then slips almost immediately to sleep. 

Alpha should follow suit. He doesn’t. He keeps watch over Tenten and knows he’s in too deep. It’s bad enough that he let himself get attached to Cutlip. He can’t be caring about what happens to a random CC. Eventually he falls into a fitful doze, already making plans to cover up a trainer’s murder. 

Cutlip is the one to slap his palm over the ejection and roll them out in the morning. He’s grinning and, if Alpha ignores the slightly different angle to Cutlip’s typical slant, it’s like he’s never been through reconditioning at all. “Prime’s tits. You really did steal a tubie.”

“I stole myself,” Tenten corrects mildly, though he doesn’t make any move to open his eyes or detach himself from Alpha’s side, “and I’m a CC cadet, not a CT tubie.” 

Cutlip barks a laugh. It’s not a kind one. “Sure, ad’ika. Why would you do that?” 

“I came to give you a message.” Tenten swings himself up into a sitting position. He might be as small as a tubie, but he has the proper bearing of a soldier. He doesn’t salute and that’s deliberate . “I am CC-1010, slated for commander training. When you get me decommissioned my batch—my brothers are going to kill you.” 

Cutlip’s snide grin slides off his face. The intent expression he wears now is dangerous. “Is that so?”

Around them, the usual noises of nearly a hundred men prepping for the day falls silent. Even the drip drip of water from a brother’s rinsed straight razor is quickly stopped by a towel. Everyone waits to see how Cutlip handles the insubordination.  

“It is.” To his credit Tenten meet’s Cutlip’s gaze without flinching. He doesn’t shrink back to seek comfort or hide behind Alpha either. “I thought I’d give you fair warning.”

“Why’s that?” Cutlip’s gaze flickers to Alpha’s just for a moment, clearly assessing where Alpha stands in this fight. 

Alpha, still half laying down and braced on an elbow, shrugs one shoulder in response. He isn’t going to interfere on behalf of either of them. 

He wonders if Tenten knew Alpha wouldn’t beat him and that’s why he left his back to Alpha or if Tenten is just bluffing. 

Tenten tips his head back to look up at Cutlip with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t want them decommed for killing an Aurek.”

“You seem awful confident they’ll succeed.” Cutlip swings down onto the pod next to Tenten. There’s not a lot of room so his pelvis ends up pressed against Alpha’s thighs. It’s a nice sort of pressure. 

“They’re determined.” Tenten snorts, turning to face Cutlip. He’s not  intimidated, even by the invasion of his space, and fond amusement hides in the corner of his mouth. “Men become more dangerous when they don’t expect to survive an encounter. Consequences tend to lose their deterrent effect.”

“I suppose they do.” Cutlip watches the miniature version of himself with an odd expression. Their size and the spider web of scars across Cutlip’s mouth are the only meaningful differences between them. 

Tenten breaks the staring contest with a roll of his eyes. He doesn’t cast either of them a backward glance as he swings over onto the ladder. “I’ve got to go talk them down now. 2224 is going to be insufferable .” 

“Of course he is.” Cutlip grins, but the smile isn’t as convincing as it normally is. “022 is a fucking bastard.”

Straight razors weren’t made for use as projectiles but that doesn’t stop Cur from trying it. The blade wobbles enough that it only nicks Cutlip’s shoulder before it embeds into the interior of Tavo’s pod. 

It starts a fight as Aureks of various alliances get pulled into fighting. It’s chaotic and there’s blood and Alpha should go down there and break it up. 

He doesn’t though. He just tips back a little to watch Tenten use the impromptu battle to keep most of the Aureks from realizing which vent he escapes into. Cutlip hasn’t moved either and it makes Alpha wonder if he misses the way things used to be too. 

“I didn’t pick you to be the one stealing tubies.” Cutlip watches the vent slide back into place with a bemused expression. “You hate everyone.”

“Pretty sure Tenten chose me because of you. I had little to do with it.” Alpha rubs at his face as he yawns. He needs to shave. He doesn’t want to move. This is the closest Cutlip has gotten since individualized training started. 

His brother’s gaze drops from the vent to watch him. Cutlip is one of the most expressive clones Alpha’s met, but it’s always these subdued thoughtful looks that seem to hold the most weight. “Your hair needs trimmed in the back.” 

It’s stupid but Alpha has to shut his eyes against the sting of relief. He rolls onto his back and stretches, playfully nudging Cutlip like he’s going to knock his brother off the pod. “And you need to shave.” 

“I’ll shave you, you fucker.” Cutlip jumps him and they wrestle until they really do have to split up to get ready for the day. 

—

“Your new problem has another angle he’s playing.” 

“Think?” Alpha grunts. Ignore that wire, move this one, snip that one, move the wire back, snip a different one… no explosion. Set it aside and move on to the next in the pile. He's about four bombs deep and quite frankly not paying attention to anything other than his work and  his brother’s tone. 

Cutlip stands over him, scanning the environment through his scope. He must spot movement because he lets off a few shots before he lowers his weapon. “He’s playing you for something.”

Alpha doesn’t respond. This one isn’t built standard and he’s running out of time. Not that wire, no don’t touch that, there. He swallows down his relief as he carefully sets it aside. His hands deliberately don’t shake as he moves on to the next. 

“The question is what.” Cutlip shoots at one of their brothers who gets a bit too close. This is their bomb cache. If the others haven’t found one yet, they’re shit out of luck. “No one cares enough about their batchers to risk a decom.”

I do. Alpha doesn’t say. I have. 

“Dunno. Think the CCs are built different.” Alpha doesn’t dare to look up from his work as Cutlip begins to defend them from their brothers in earnest. “He’s got information on every cell line in his batch. Got offended at the idea he’d let me take the fall for something he did.”

“Damn. Think the minut’videke decided to try for morals?” 

“I think they’ve decided to try for an army that won’t cannibalize itself with infighting.” Just three more. Alpha can do that. 

Cutlip laughs at the idea. It is an amusing one. They both bear a litany of scars from their brother’s various attempts at sabotage. Cutlip’s are the most easily visible. A grenade down your gullet—no matter how amature in construction—will do that. 

Alpha still feels sick sometimes, wondering if Cutlip let it happen. Usually he tries not to think about it.  He disables the last bomb and sends an all-clear through. 

They’re not the first group to finish, but they are rather early in the roster. Alpha sinks back to rest his head against the rubble. He lets his eyes fall closed because he knows Cutlip is keeping watch. Their alliance isn’t anything like Tenten has implied he has with his batchers, but it works for them. “I’m keeping an eye on the problem. I looked into it and he’s got top scores. They’d notice if he went missing.”

“That complicates things.” Cutlip shuffles over, hip brushing Alpha’s shoulder. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see what he wants.”

“He’s a tubie.” Alpha laughs despite himself. It’s the epinephrine come down leaving him giddy and anxious. “He probably just wants extra pudding cups.”

Cutlip laughs with him, crooked grin twisting with his dimpled scars. “You stole a fucking tubie. You hate tubies.”

I don’t hate you, Alpha doesn’t say. He’s content to laugh with his brother and enjoy the warmth of an artificial sun. They’ve survived another drill and Cutlip didn’t even look once at one of the bombs like he was debating sitting on it. Alpha isn’t naive enough to believe that it’s because of Tenten’s threat of death by tubies. Quite frankly he doesn’t care what Tenten said or didn’t say that convinced Cutlip not to try for decom today. 

His brother is alive and Alpha is having a good day. For now, that’s good enough for him.