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“Tilda told me. About you and… Elisabet.”
Aloy’s brows were knitted as she scrutinized Fross’s face, as if mentally grasping at straws to find traces of Elisabet in his features, in the color of his eyes, in the shape of his nose, in the dusting of freckles on his cheeks.
It wouldn’t be the first time someone had given him that treatment upon finding out about their relationship, far from it. Tilda herself still gave him such looks, mostly behind closed doors, where the other Zeniths wouldn’t catch on. She was brief, as though Fross wouldn’t notice the lingering look if she was, but he knew.
“Why didn’t you say anything…?”
Fross kept his gaze down, fixed on a corner to his right side, past Tilda’s stupid holographic projection of her own equally stupid painting. It simply hadn’t occurred to him to disclose his relation to Elisabet… In fact, he barely thought about her anymore. If it weren’t for her relevance to Tilda even today, Fross would’ve long since let her memory die alongside everyone else on Earth. It would’ve only been fair.
He should’ve figured Tilda would disclose it for him, but, once again, the possibility simply hadn’t occurred to him. He might as well have forgotten that he shared any blood with her at all.
“There was nothing to tell.” He said, with a shrug. “She passed several lifetimes ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It matters to me.” Aloy’s tone cracked, unexpectedly, like she could break into tears at any second now. The mere thought genuinely rattled Fross, who had never seen her waver like this before, and would never have guessed that this would be the very thing to wound the Chosen One herself. “We can’t pretend she never existed just because she’s gone. What was she to you?”
Fross sucked in a shaky breath. He wasn’t being pinned to the wall, or threatened, or cornered — in fact, he was free to leave any time he wanted — but he sure felt fixed to the spot, whether it was due to her strong presence, her self-assured (and all-too-familiar) expression, or her words alone, as they poked at an insecurity he had long since tried to bury.
All he needed to do was field Aloy’s questions, be polite but brief, and avoid volunteering any extra information as much as he could until she was satisfied. He liked to believe he was well-trained in that art after a thousand years of hanging around Far Zenith — so why was Aloy’s simple question leaving him without words?
He genuinely, truly, honest-to-god, couldn’t remember what his relationship to Elisabet had been like. Unlike Tilda, he hadn’t spent a thousand years torturing himself by rolling around on his memories of Earth like a pig on mud until he drowned in his misery. He hadn’t saved any records of their relationship in his neural implant, either — it was clear he had wanted to forget. But, no matter how much he racked his head about it, he couldn’t decipher what about his old life on Earth was so painful that he had felt the need to cut all ties once he left.
He couldn’t remember even if he tried. He had already told both Aloy and Kai that he couldn’t remember, but he was convinced they didn’t believe him. After all, Tilda remembered, so why couldn’t he?
Still, Fross managed to give Aloy a friendly smile, even though it didn’t reach his eyes. “What would make you least likely to hit me?”
At that, Aloy squeezed her eyes shut and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not gonna hit you.” She swallowed thickly. “That’s — actually a really concerning thing to say.” She tilted her head, making eye contact for basically the first time in this conversation through narrowed eyes. “Has anyone ever... hit you, within Far Zenith?”
The question zapped Fross like lightning, as a shiver ran up his spine, his body tensing up with an immediacy that surprised even himself. He hadn’t expected Aloy to go for his throat right now, to — to put him in the spot like this. He had thought she had more tact than that.
Trying to blink away the thought, he choked up a response. “Why do you care?”
Aloy took a deep breath, hands on her hips, as she shook her head. “Aaand that’s basically a yes. It’s a good thing you left Far Zenith, then.”
“No.” Fross frowned, nervously turning away as he wrapped his arms around himself. “It’s a no, leave me alone. I don’t have the answers you want from me. Go ask Tilda.”
“But it wasn’t just Tilda.” Aloy said, with an air of something between defeat and intrigue in her voice. “You were part of Elisabet’s life too. You were important to her. That has to mean something to you—”
“Why should it?” Fross shrugged, eyes fixed, once again, on a corner of the wall. “It’s been a thousand years. I moved on.”
As he should have. In the end, it didn’t matter why he had chosen to forget, but the fact that it had been the right choice. Elisabet had never mentioned him in any of the holos that remained of her — if she had, Tilda would’ve brought up while going through the files on Aloy’s Focus. If he really had mattered to her as much as Aloy claimed, she would’ve, at the very least, told GAIA about him. But, as things were right now, no evidence backed Aloy’s convictions. It was impossible to know whether she had even shed a tear for him when she received the “news” about the Odyssey…
So why should Fross make the effort to remember Lis, when it was obvious she wouldn’t have remembered him if she were in his place?
But, of course, Aloy wouldn’t understand. Not only did she idolize Elisabet, but she was mortal, too. Only twenty years old, in fact. She couldn’t even imagine what it was like to live a thousand years — it was way too long of a time to be hung up on a single person, no matter how important she might have been to him.
“You have to remember something.” She said, her movements still subtly jittery, her voice still strained. “Growing up, I always wished I knew where I came from, why I was made an outcast, why I… had no mother… You have no idea what I would give to have a chance to meet her.” A bitter smile crossed her face for a split second, but it faded as quickly as it came. She then looked up at Fross, shaking her head. “But you had everything I wanted. And you can’t even tell me what she was like?”
“Stop. Don’t try to force a familial bond where there was none.” If Fross could’ve turned away more than he already had without giving her his back, he would’ve. Instead, he just gave her a dismissive wave of his hand, turning his chin up. “Go play house with Beta as much as you like, but don’t drag me into it.”
“Elisabet did everything she could for you.” Aloy said, narrowed eyes piercing into Fross, nearly baring her teeth as she hissed her words out. “She was there for you when you had no one else. She’s the only reason you even had a planet to return to. She saved your life more than once, and this is how you repay her?”
“You don’t know anything about my life.” Fross chuckled bitterly, despite the grimace on his face. “Tilda will gladly talk your ear off about Elisabet if that’s what you want. Go ask her.”
Aloy took in a sharp breath, eyes drifting away from Fross as she shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. “You know what? Fine.” She let out a heavy sigh. “If that’s how you want it to be. I’m guessing there’s no point asking about your parents either, then?”
Fross pursed his lips, tilting his head. “Who?”
“Nevermind.” Aloy huffed, turning away as her gaze dropped to the floor. She then gave Fross one last glare, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Just know that, when everyone forgets you after you’re gone, it’ll be because you asked for it.”
It wasn’t until the doors had closed behind Aloy — and Fross had waited for what felt like an eternity, just barely holding onto his composure, to confirm she wasn’t coming back — that he allowed himself to crack. Once the dam had broken, and the first sob had escaped him, as he felt the tears pooling in his eyes, he could no longer contain himself. He buried his face into his hands, nearly choking on his own sobs as he gasped for air between his cries. As his knees grew weak, he let himself drop to the ground, trying not to think about Erik laying his hands on him — oh god, there it was again — or Aloy’s tone and piercing gaze as she chastised him mercilessly, with those words he would not soon forget — damn, he could hear them reverberating in his head — or his fucked up family, and why none of them gave a single shit about him — but here he was, thinking about it again!
Even then, he had half a mind to realize he’d be shooting himself in the foot if Tilda came back in and the first thing she saw was Fross curled up on the floor at her feet, crying and whining with tears and snot all over his face as his whole body shivered under his own weight. She would see it as a clear sign of weakness, of cowardice, of lack of control, or, worse, she would see him as a burden, as a disappointment, as a waste of effort, and she would drop him like she had — apparently — dropped Beta. It hadn’t been long since Fross had learned of their relationship, but it had been more than enough to make him ten times more self-conscious of the way he presented around Tilda…
It felt like it took an impossible amount of effort just to hold his breath long enough to drag himself through the floor and behind the counter, only to buy himself a little more time if Tilda suddenly walked in. There was a lot more weighing down on him, but he had to stop crying now, to convince himself the tears he had already spilled were enough, for his own safety. It was the only thing that truly mattered now.
God, if he failed to perform to Tilda’s standards… would she decide he wasn’t conducive to her plans, and leave him on Earth, leave him alone on Earth, to face… the… singularity…? God, no. God, he couldn’t witness that again, no, he couldn’t stand the thought, for the love of god—
“Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone— “ Fross mumbled like a prayer, hugging his knees to his chest, as if hoping that the sound of his own voice, breathless and all, would help usher the bad thoughts away.
If it weren’t happening to him, it’d be funny to see how easily his whole balance could be disrupted, and how quickly he could go from holding a conversation to sobbing, whimpering, and rocking himself back and forth. Honestly, it should not be possible. He should be in perfect control of his emotions, instead of letting things that happened twenty years ago, along with Aloy’s horrible, horrible words, shatter his heart and leave him a pathetic mess on the floor.
Aloy’s words… Right. This was all Aloy’s fault. She had been the one who had unearthed all of these issues, one after the other, and left him to collapse under their soul-crushing weight, with nothing to hold him up or keep him standing. But would anyone even believe Fross if he told them about how awful and cruel Aloy had been to him? Or would they take her side, assuming he must’ve done something to deserve it? Everyone was head over heels for her, after all, so no one believed she could do any wrong… why would they back him up?
God, he hated her with the rage of a thousand suns. Every single little thing she did and every single word she said only served to make him hate her more than he had ever thought possible. At this point, there was nothing he wanted more from his time on Earth than to see Kai realize the truth about Aloy, about how much she had hurt both him and Fross, and to just fucking kill her already. Yes, he just wanted to see Kai tear her apart limb by limb, to drive a knife through her chest, to make her suffer, to make her feel the pain that she was making Fross feel right now. And then, Kai and Fross would emerge triumphant, and nothing would get in the way of their happily ever after ever again...
Speaking of which — where the hell was Kai when Fross needed him most?
Fross swallowed and sucked in a breath, readying himself to speak as he established connection with Kai’s Focus. “Kai, I need you at the base, right now.” He choked out. “Hurry up, I’ll kill myself.”