A Clean Bed of Snow

"Leaving so soon?" Atin's voice, all the harsher because of its low volume, demanded from the threshold of Vau's bedroom. His dark eyes, burning with contempt, lit on his former training sergeant's mostly full duffel, which was packed with a small arsenal, survival supplies, rations, water bottles, and several sets of clothing. "Well, I can't pretend that you haven't worn your welcome out."

"And I can't pretend that Skirata's company is charming," Vau said, glad that he had Mird growling at his heels and a honed blade tucked in his belt. At least he hadn't been foolish enough to walk weaponless through the supposedly safe house Skirata had built on Mandalore. It had been quite idiotic enough to leave his door open when his most deadly enemy, Atin, lived in the same structure.

Old age is really making me soft, he thought. The first warning signs had probably been when he had started thinking of his trainees—who should have been ways to earn credits—as his boys to be made into men and warriors rather than flesh droids.

"Oh." The lines on Atin's face were tight enough that his scars, the ones that Vau had given him when he refused to fight another clone, stood out in sharp relief. "I thought you were going to look for Sev, but I guess I should have known that would just be an excuse with you. I should have known you were just looking out for yourself, because you only care about yourself and your stinking, walking pelt of a pet. Why not pretend to look for Sev as an excuse to leave Skirata in the stardust?"

"You will continue to see things in the wrong light." Vau's lips thinned. He was tired of Atin deliberately ignoring how much of Vau's brutality had been driven by nothing more than a desire to see as many of his trainees as possible survive. He wasn't a hero, and he thought that Mandalorian didn't have a word for hero because everyone who sold themselves for credits was a scumbag, but, at least, he was better than Atin judged him to be. He was the one who had taught Atin how to fight and survive. He was the one who had given Atin his name when he noticed the young soldier's refusal to give in, even when obviously wrong, on training exercises. In every way that counted, he was Atin's father, and he deserved some respect. "You let your hatred of me blind you to the truth of my actions even more effectively than Skirata used to allow his antipathy of me to prevent him form seeing the truth about me and my training methods. I am disappointed in you, Atin. I thought I taught you to control your emotions and observe events with a certain healthy amount of indifference."

"You're still as cold as you were on Kamino." Atin's jaw clenched. "It's always a chilly detachment with you, isn't it? You don't even care about Delta, do you? I thought you might at least feel some concern for their well-being, because everyone knows they were always your favorite squad ever since they started proving their worth on Kamino, but I suppose that now they aren't perfect anymore, you can't be bothered with them."

"I promised Boss, Fixer, and Scorch that I would search for Sev as soon as possible," Vau said icily, his hard gaze locked on Atin's equally resolate one. "I keep my promises, especially those I make to my men. Even you, as much as you hate me, can't claim that I haven't delivered on every promise I ever made to you, even if you wish that I hadn't."

"Congratulations on keeping every promise you ever made to beat your clones into shape." Atin snorted. "Just don't expect that victory to make me hate you less. And, let me tell you, Delta would hate you, too, if they weren't so scared of you, so don't go thinking you're a good father to any of your men, because you aren't. You're just an abusive sociopath who has convinced himself that the harm he does is a help to his victims."

"I don't care if you and Delta hate me," drawled Vau, meaning every word. "As long as you are alive, if you dream of boiling me in my own blood and removing my intestines through my nostrils." His drawl was transforming into a quick, heated declaration as he continued, "All I ever wanted was for you to survive. I don't care if you love me. I'd rather you be alive to hate me than die loving me. Understand?"

Atin did finally understand. Vau could see it on the man's face as he answered gruffly, "Fine. You got what you wanted, and so did I. I'm alive to hate you."

"And I'm going to bring Sev back here when I find him," finished Vau, intentionally ignoring the possibility that he might not find Delta's sniper. "He can hate me as much as he likes once I get him safely back here."

"Maybe he would just want a fresh start—a clean bed of snow—when he arrived," Atin commented, his eyes offering Vau that fresh start describing. "Possibly even his bloodlust has been sated by now."

"Perhaps that's what we all want." Vau nodded, accepting his former trainee's forgiveness and wondering if he would ever be able to forgive himself for what he had done in the name of earning worthless credits. "A second try. A chance to make even one of the wrongs we commit right."

"Redemption." Atin's tone was quieter than a whisper, and his face was softer than Vau had ever seen it, even at the beginning of training when Atin had first been placed in his company, because even then Atina had been teaching himself to be hard, and now, finally, he was laying down all his weapons before his training sergeant, who, at least, had no intention of wounding or attacking him. "That's the spacelane we're all traveling down at different speeds, wishing we knew where the final destination of peace is exactly."

"If Mandalorian had a word for 'hero,'" Vau remarked, fighting for calm, "it would mean the same as clone."

"No." Atin shook his head. "It would mean the same as sergeant. Sergeants save us when we don't expect them to, and they sacrifice themselves so that we can have a second chance."

"We can fight some common enemies now, then?" Vau asked, extending his hand to Atin.

"Well, we're no longer enemies, at any rate." Atin clutched Vau's forearm, as Vau gripped his, each of them proving that they were strong enough to remove a fallen comrade from a fray. "I'll watch your six, and you guard mine."