Chapter 17: Survivor's Guilt
"I understand you. In fact, I share your frustrations. Trust me, I really do," Bastian sighed as he shook his head slowly. "Who knew becoming a Sentinel wouldn't be as great as it was cracked up to be?"
"With the council always second-guessing my decisions, I'm basically fighting a war on two fronts every single time," he muttered with an annoyed expression as he leaned back, his eyes finding the mural on the ceiling.
After a few moments, he glanced at Arbus again, his expression turning somber. "But before we get to your future in the Renegades, there's something else I'd like to discuss with you first."
"Huh? What else is there to talk about besides that?" Arbus asked as a crease formed between his brows.
"It's concerning what happened today. On Terytl-B," Bastian replied softly.
Arbus's lips slowly curved into a frown. "You've already seen my reports on everything. From the moment the main base was first attacked to the moment I killed Ronin. Even... about his actions before he arrived there—and the billions he claimed to have killed, which, I'm sure, has been thoroughly confirmed by the captains who arrived there after I was escorted away."
He folded his hands over his chest as his eyes fell. "I don't want to talk about that topic anymore," he said, a lump forming in his throat. Then, he suddenly thought of something as he glanced toward Bastian with an accusatory gaze. "Unless... you somehow believe I'm involved in some way."
"Calm down, Arbus. Take deep breaths," Bastian said as he raised a hand. "I don't believe you had anything to do with what happened, nor do I believe you should be concerned about getting the blame."
"What I wanted to ask you was how you were feeling," Bastian continued.
Arbus blinked rapidly for a moment, the question coming as a surprise to him after he'd already prepared himself for something much worse. "I... I'm fine," he replied curtly. "Like I said, we should focus on the things that matter right now."
He noticed Bastian's gaze was still focused on him—the question never leaving his eyes.
Arbus's teeth clenched as he glanced toward the ground. "...Terrible. I feel terrible, okay!?" he shouted as he felt a string of emotions begin to rise up in his chest.
Just like that, the memories of Terytl-B came flooding back to Arbus like a rushing tide fed up of being held back by a mundane dam.
He remembered the towns and cities first. He remembered visiting the same ones every few weeks when he was ordered to—helping them with whatever they needed.
He remembered the dark helmet and gloves he would always wear to keep his identity a secret whenever he went on a mission. He remembered the looks of gratitude from the civilians as he helped them with their work, the cheerful expressions on the children's faces as they taught him various games he'd never gotten the chance to learn as a child, and the worried looks they'd give him whenever they thought he was overworking himself.
Then, he remembered his comrades. Not the ones who made his life a living hell, but the ones who would start off by keeping their distance from him, then slowly find themselves interacting with him more and more. Not as a friend, but not as an enemy either.
He remembered Mits—the steadfast commander who always drew the respect of all those who worked with him. He remembered the concerned expressions he always made when he glanced towards him. Arbus knew it was because Mitz had noticed that he was the only one getting left behind by everyone else, despite having the most achievements from his batch and those that came after. And finally, he remembered the look of sadness on his face when he died. Arbus was sure that the look had nothing to do with him realizing he was going to die, but instead with the realization of what was going to happen to everyone after he did.
Arbus was stunned when he saw a teardrop splash against the dark floor of the Hold. He placed a hand against his cheek, realizing he was crying again.
He covered his eyes as he tried to stop himself.
Bastian said nothing for a long moment as he watched him, an unreadable expression nestled in his gaze. Then, he stood, pushing his chair back as he walked around the table to where Arbus sat. Arbus looked up in surprise as Bastian leaned down suddenly, pulling him into a hug.
He remembered the exact same thing happening six years ago. After the incident on Tarok, and after he had been sternly questioned by the council with open hostility. The gathering had lasted for hours, despite his grandfather's pleas to end it.
Bastian brought him to his office after it was over, being the only person to lend him a shoulder to cry on after everything he'd been through that day.
His teeth grinded against each other as he struggled, and failed to stop himself from crying. His tears began pouring out more freely. "It's not fair, Bastian," he muttered. "Why couldn't I do anything again! Why... why do I have to always be the one to survive!"
"That's enough, kid." Bastian said with a grimace, patting Arbus's head sympathetically. "Don't think of ways to blame yourself for the unfairness of life. None of this should have happened to you in the first place. You have seen and experienced far more than any child, anyone, should be forced to in one lifetime—and I'm sorry for that. Just let it all out. Holding back these emotions won't help you in the long run."
Arbus did exactly as he said, not sure he could hold back his sadness and rage even if he wanted to.
Ophilia closed the door behind her silently as she walked into the room. Her gaze landed on Arbus's crying form for just a moment before she turned away, taking her seat at the corner of the study.