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“Not-Er-Ye, I don’t remember my designation,” Hei Xiazi says to him a few days after they take down a sentinel control pillar. He turns his head slightly, the only movement he’s made in the last twenty minutes. Xiao Hua swipes his fingers on the touchpad of his desk, closing the latest report on maintenance costs of their mercantile fleet.
“What do you mean?”
Hei Xiazi seems to think for a few long moments, and the way his jaw tightens and his teeth grind together is at least familiar. Seeing him so quiet, so still, is the thing that has been making Xiao Hua want to rip the machines that did this to him apart with his bare hands. When Hei Xiazi had returned to the Xie family settlement, guns turned against them, Xiao Hua had simply thought that he could throw credits at the problem and remind Hei Xiazi who his best employer was. When that hadn’t worked, when it hadn’t even garnered a coy smile from the man, was the moment Xiao Hua’s blood had run cold.
“Not a designation, maybe. A name. Like, Not-Er-Ye’s. Xie Yuchen,” he pauses. His nose crinkles and laugh lines return to his cheeks as he smiles. “Xiao Hua.”
“Not-Er-Ye is not a name,” he replies, busying himself by shuffling folders around on his holographic terminal so he doesn’t have to look at that smile for too long. Curse the man and curse the way he can make Xiao Hua’s heart clench without even trying. “Besides, you don’t get to call me that when you haven’t even told me how you know my master.”
It is clearly the wrong thing to say as the smile flickers across Hei Xiazi’s face, almost like a glitch, until it turns into a painful grimace.
“Memory file: corrupt. Decrypting archive… Access denied. Memory…?….?”
Xiao Hua is on his feet in a second, bounding across the room to put a hand on Hei Xiazi’s shoulder and squeeze , as static creeps through the man’s words. Even from behind the dark tinted glasses, Xiao Hua can see a crackle of purple light fill his eyes then trickle under his skin across his cheeks. It dips into the mechanical implants that run down Xiazi’s neck, making his bones snap with the unnatural movement of his head. From up close, Xiao Hua can hear the faint hum of the sentinel core that is inexplicably encased in Hei Xiazi’s skull, melded to his organic brain.
There was a time when Xiao Hua would have put a bullet through that very skull if he had known what it contained. Now, he simply clings to Hei Xiazi’s shoulder as if he could will him into regaining control of himself by touch alone.
A few long moments pass, as the sentinel core reroutes itself into a state of calm after denying Hei Xiazi access to his own thoughts. When it does, the man slumps into a chair and takes a few gulping breaths, his head throws back to stare past the glass ceiling at the endless expanse of stars above. Xiao Hua just… stands there. Because what else can he do, besides clench his fists and grind his teeth against the injustice of the universe itself deciding he doesn’t deserve answers? Besides pushing aside the gnawing desire to know more, in favour of handing Hei Xiazi the mug of cold tea Xiao Hua had forgotten about hours ago?
“Thanks,” Xiazi says, sounding ragged and tired but not at all complaining about the cold tea.
“You do have a name,” Xiao Hua says when the silence becomes too heavy. “You have two of them, in fact. Hei Xiazi, Hei Yanjing.”
“They are not my original name. My original designation.”
“We flesh and bone creatures don’t get a designation to tell us what to do with our life, so those names are the best you’re going to get,” Xiao Hua insists, standing above the man and looking down at him imperiously.
“‘M not just flesh and bone, Xiao Hua,” Hei Xiazi says and this time he sounds like himself. Whiny and melodramatic like all the other times the two of them had stayed up too late to stem the tide of existentialism.
“You are flesh enough.”
“Heh. You can just admit you like my meat.”
“Oh good, you’re finally back to your usual self. That means you can get out of my office and get to work-“
“Denied.”
“You don’t get to ‘denied’ me.”
“Denied!”
Xiao Hua almost yelps as Hei Xiazi wraps his big strong arms around his waist, nuzzling his ugly mug in Xiao Hua’s belly and holding on for dear life. With a great huff, he settles into the hold, eyes cast to the side. Then, almost of its own volition, his hand lifts and gently lands on Hei Xiazi’s hair. It needs washing, that is for certain, but it is also deceptively soft. He cards his fingers through it, gently scratching the man’s scalp with his nails. He can feel a few unfamiliar bumps, a few unnatural ridges across the skin, but he doesn’t linger on them. He shifts his weight and settles down, holding Hei Xiazi close while the stars gaze upon them both.