Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A2 wakes up face down in the sand, the wavering heat sending her cooling processes into a whirring overdrive as she tries to push herself up. At least there's wind if she can drag herself away from the burning ground beneath her feet. 

Her body moves slowly and reluctantly - she's taken a lot of damage, and is going to need to scavenge parts from machine lifeforms or preferably other YoRHa to get back to her normal status. Though there's that trick of stealing energy from the machine network when she's fighting them that she's been working on... But she'll need a bit of field repair to get in fighting form, unless she feels like picking on some embarrassingly weak stubbies.

She gives a heavy, annoyed sigh, and gets her feet properly under her. The nanomachines in her start repairing what they can, as she contemplates how much of a pain in the ass finding uninfected YoRHa parts is going to be now. So long as she isn't cannibalizing anything that could potentially store data she should be fine, but that cuts out most parts of a YoRHa body...

Her plotting is interrupted by an extremely unwelcome voice, the even and artificial tones of that fucking Pod that 2B saddled her with. “Good morning, A2.”

She does not startle, and no one can ever prove otherwise. She definitely knew the Pod was there this entire time. She does however let out a mildly surprised, “What the - ?”

The Pod floats properly into her field of vision and intones, “Analysis: YoRHa unit A2 was restarted five minutes and forty two seconds ago. The cause was excessive strain due to battle against a large machine lifeform.”

She rolls her eyes and starts trying to walk away from the thing. ...Emphasis on ‘trying.’ She ends up more sliding away as she grumbles about the sand. Evidently her past self made better decisions, such as not coming to the goddamn sand pit. 

There's some concerning noises from her midsection as she starts trudging up another dune, and a wave of exhaustion threatens to make her stumble even as her body struggles to repair itself. If she'd taken a major blow to her main fuel storage areas she'd been in worse shape, which means it isn't that...

Pod 042 decides to be oh so helpful again and pipes up with, “Alert: Fuel filter performance deteriorating. Fine particulate matter seems to have entered the filter while fighting in the desert. Proposal: replace the faulty part immediately,” as it drifts along behind her. 

She just rolls her eyes again. Of course it's her fuel filter. That thing is the worst pain in her ass, and they're delicate enough they're hard to scavenge. She’ll probably have to loot a couple dozen corpses to get an intact one, and there’s a lot of infected YoRHa bodies around, but they're in pretty rough shape, and even if the machines haven't beaten her to it, digging around that deep in an infected body is risky...

“You make it sound so easy,” she grumbles, instead of ignoring the Pod like she'd intended. The damn thing is just too good at getting under her skin.

The Pod doesn't take much time to reply with, “Records indicate said part was once used at the Resistance camp.”

She stops on top of a dune - a tall one. She can see most of the desert, including the cliffs in the distance and a currently stationary sandstorm in the opposite direction. “The Resistance Camp...” she says, eyes fixed on nothing in particular  as she brings up memories of her few encounters with Resistance members. 2B had been working with them lately too...

With her fuel filter fucked up, trading might be faster than looting corpses, and more reliable than jerry rigging one herself, and less frustrating than dealing with a broken one. She hasn't intentionally approached any androids since the destruction of her team, though. Especially not the Resistance. 

“...Go fuck yourself,” A2 says, and starts trudging away from the gap in the cliffs leading back to the city. Away from the storm. Away from any area she has a vague sense 2B would've explored. 

“Continuing to operate in the desert area with a faulty fuel filter is not advised,” the Pod says, just managing to make her more determined to keep walking away from it. 

“I do what I want,” she says, and heads deeper in. 

-

She does eventually start wondering if she regrets her actions. She can see only sand, and it's oppressively hot, and her innards are making some very gunky noises. Not enough to turn around, though, at least not by the time she sees some half-submerged buildings. They mean potential shelter, even if only a bit of shade and a wind block, so she picks up her pace eagerly, sprinting down a dune and gliding the rest of the way into the lee of a taller ruin. It's big enough for some of the sand behind it to be in probably eternal shade, even as the shadows wax and wane with the seasons, and she plops herself there in a mercifully cool patch. Wind eddies around her, creating a barrier of lightly swirling sand, but none of it picks excessively at her. There's even a scraggly bit of plant matter growing here.

The rest gives her body a chance to heal as much as it will without intentional repairs, at which point she sighs and pulls the cloth around her waist off. It creates a decent enough barrier to sand as she pops off panels one at a time and does her own repairs and maintenance. 

Her performance still isn't great when she decides she's gotten as far as she can without new materials or better tools or at least a chance to sit down somewhere she's not having to worry about the sand and wind, but it's enough she isn't a sitting duck anymore. She should probably avoid soloing any goliaths until she gets more repairs done, but she'd bet on herself versus basically anything else right now. 

She fixes what little remains of her uniform back around her waist, and tilts her head back, wondering where to go next. The Pod is being mercifully silent for once, enough she starts seriously contemplating shutting down briefly and seeing if that helps her performance. It's not like there's any enemies in this place. Nothing and no one but her and the Pod.

She'd call it peaceful, except she's already getting bored. Like, really bored. Bored enough she's considering going to look for a very tough fight. Maybe another goliath. She isn't dead yet, so the gunky fuel filter can't be that big of an issue...

She stands, and stretches, and sets out to explore the ruins a little. Just to give herself a break in the monotony before she plunges back through the desert towards somewhere with features and also inhabitants she can fight. 

Which is, of course, when she spots a weird-ass machine - one of the smaller bipeds, with cloth draped around it and a mask over its face, a sword in its hand that's slightly less low quality than the sharpened bits of metal most of the machines wield. She's seen machines playing dress up before of course - the Forest Kingdom was full of them (before she got to them), which means she knows this implies a lot of potentially organized machines nearby. 

Could be fun...

She calls 2B’s white sword to her hand, feeling that bizarre and almost eager hum as it settles into her palm. She's still not used to it, at least not when she isn't fighting, but in combat the sword moves like it was built just for her, so it works out. 

She saunters towards the weird machine, sword at the ready, letting it see her coming just to see what it'll do. She doesn't need strategy in fights like this; acting reckless is about the only entertainment she can get. 

She is not, however, expecting it to turn, look at her, and say in a very peppy tone of voice, “Oh, are you here to face the Trials?”

She pauses in her advanced, nonplussed. “The... Trials?”

“The Trials of Sand!” the machine says. She’s starting to suspect may have had its circuits scrambled by heat, never mind that it's carefully standing in a deep and shadowed overhang. Maybe it got scrambled before it found the shade. “Where worthy combatants come to participate in challenges, and improve their strength so they can succeed at ever greater Trials.”

“...What kind of challenges?” she asks despite herself. (She's bored, alright.)

“Combats against other machine lifeforms, each under special rules - I've only ever gotten to the Fourth Trial, which must be fought entirely without sight nor equivalent sense... It's very difficult, and I have not mastered the Rules enough to pass it,” the machine confesses. 

“Huh...” She looks at the elevator past the weird robot, then scowls as wind starts to pick up, blowing more of that goddamn sand at her. “Fine,” she says, “I'll participate in your ‘Trials.’” If nothing else, she'll be inside. And if the Trials are more boring than they sound or if the machines just piss her off, she can always go back to plan ‘kill everything that moves.’

“Analysis,” that fucking Pod says, “It is unsafe for Unit A2 to participate in additionally challenging ‘Trials’ with a malfunctioning  fuel filter.”

She just quietly flips it off as the machine lifeform unlocks the elevator. A2 steps in, relaxing a small fraction as it descends oddly smoothly into the cooler depths, not even entirely minding that the Pod floats in after her.

Maybe this’ll be the break she needs...

Chapter Text

The way machines just… Stand idly around in the underground area unnerves her. There's dark side passages, and she can see groups of machines down a few of them, most of them with those odd yellow eyes that normally indicate a machine that won't attack unless she starts it. But there's a much larger main corridor from the entry area the elevator lets out into, and there's machines lining it, chattering about the rules and the trials. One tells her to go to the desk at the end, which…

It's just weird, alright. 

She goes to stand before the 'receptionist,' her arms crossed. It turns to look at her and says, "Welcome! Are you here to attempt the Trials?"

"Sure," she says. 

The machine nods, that weird mask clicking against its metal torso. "As per Rule 2858, I will provide an explanation." She's heard rule numbers up above sixty thousand on her short walk down. There's no way they're numbered sequentially, right? The masked robot keeps going, though, apparently ignorant of her skepticism. "This is a sacred place, where we worship the masks and the rules. The Trials were established to test any who challenge them, allowing contestants to measure themselves objectively, and to thereby improve. Whoever beats every single Trial laid before them will become the True Masked One, though that has never happened." She snorts, because no shit - the only way to beat every trial ever laid before you is by doing a (successful) suicide attack on your very first mission.  

So, not something she needs to worry about. 

"If you possess the will to continue, please register yourself," the machine continues, blithely. 

She shrugs and does so, and - looks like there's some kind of linear order to the Trials. Boring, but it means she'll get a few easy rounds in while she tries to steal energy off their network… 

So she confirms herself for the First Trial, the rules of which apparently demand that she fight without any allies, so no Pod (no skin off her back). She's still allowed to use her new swords and basically every other trick she can bring to the table, which is more than she's used to. 

She agrees to the rules, leaves a protesting Pod 042 behind, and enters the First Trial.

It'd probably be exhausting, if A2 wasn't inherently energized by the fights. If her body didn't feel perfect when she had her swords in her hands, if that wasn't the only time she didn't feel the constant pain of her existence. It'd probably be exhausting if she had any other personality - but A2 was able to dedicate herself to hours of speed reading exceptionally dry and disorganized reports even before she discovered how much more alive she feels when in a fight. How much her scattered, worried focus narrows in on her target. 

The rules didn't mention anything about a marathon fight, but that's what this is. A2 alone, outnumbered, her enemies endless, no allies on the way. 

It's how she's lived for a long, long time. And it's how she wins this fight.

(She barely listens to the announcement. 'Rely on your own strength,' some ridiculously high rule number, and of course a rule that applies to her but not to the swarms of machines attacking her… That's just life.)

She finishes the fight even before she starts to risk overheating, her breathing pattern unchanged as she returns Virtuous Contract to its place on her back. There's an almost pleased hum from the sword 2B had claimed contains her memories. (Which… Is something A2 doesn't want to think about too much.) And - 

There's cheering from the stands, causing A2's head to jerk up in shock. Cheering from numerous machine lifeforms, all in those strange masks, those imitations of clothes - the announcer congratulating her - 

She jumps out of the pit, to more cheers and startled exclamations, and stalks off to claim her reward, her good mood from the fight very soured. 

Her reward is a small pile of materials and replacement parts, suspiciously useful actually for finishing up some of her self-repairs. She glares at the receptionist and asks, "Why's this the reward?"

"Rule 3369," the receptionist says, "States that rewards must be tailored to the one rewarded, while Rule 38450 states that the value of rewards must be indexed to the difficulty of the task."

"...So good enough I'll want to keep fighting, and the type of thing that'll let me…" she says quietly. 

The receptionist nods with a soft clack. "Rule 15748 states that challengers of the Trials must be given the chance to become their best selves."

She rolls her eyes - but takes the materials before stomping off to find a quiet corner to finish licking her wounds in. 

Machine lifeforms are weird and annoying even when they aren't trying to kill her, apparently. 

Chapter Text

The supplies she gets from winning are enough to keep her going for a while, but aren't enough to totally fix her fuel filter. Unfortunately. The thing is incredibly fucked, and the local machine lifeform don't use anything similar. And… She's delayed. The number of intact and uninfected YoRHa corpses is probably currently 'zero.'

And that fucking Pod keeps reminding her she can probably find the filter at the Resistance camp. Not that she likes hearing it. 

Though…

These Trials are fun, and she's enjoying putting her all into them. They're hard like few things are, and… She fucks up in the Third Trial. She gets her ass kicked. And as she's passing out, teeth gritted, thinking this is finally the end -

"The Trial is concluded," the announcer calls, and the attackers back off. 

She passes out. 

She wakes up. She seems to be in an infirmary of some kind. There's heavy fabric curtains separating beds containing banged up machine lifeforms - and her. She's not as banged up as she thought she'd be though - 

And then she recognizes the golden light swirling around the damaged machine lifeforms. It's the same thing she sees from goliaths hooked up to the network, as they draw on the energies spread over other machine lifeforms and heal themselves. (She's figured out they can't do that if she keeps them distracted with constant attacks, but that's sometimes challenging.) It's the thing she figured out how to mimic after a long string of painful failures, forcibly stealing energy to heal herself whenever she attacks. 

She's never seen weaker machines being repaired, though. This seems to be mediated by the beds, and a few machines - usually those with just limb injuries - are on chairs getting parts swapped out instead. Maybe it's a limited resource?

Which doesn't explain the golden light that starts swirling around her after she's been awake for a few seconds. She scowls, then reluctantly directs that energy towards repairing her injuries.

A thin machine - a type she hasn't seen before - ambles over. It's entirely intact, wearing a mask with a red cross painted on it instead of the more common patterns, and its clothes are pure white. (A grungy white, but nothing else is dyed.) There's several more of its type around, swapping out parts or fiddling with the healing beds or checking on the more heavily damaged machines or fussing over - are those cores? Yeah, those are cores in a back corner, two of them. They look lightly damaged.

Machine lifeform maintenance units, then. She's almost surprised they have those. 

The maintenance unit stops before her and says, "It is good that you are awake. The protections on your core seem to make any energy but that you consciously direct ineffective. We had to do a few manual repairs."

She scowls thunderously. "I didn't give you permission to go rooting around in my body," she snaps.

The maintenance unit raises its hands. "We can refrain in the future, though we would like to discuss terms for providing maintenance when you are unconscious going forward, if you intend to continue participating in the Trials. And this time, your companion gave permission; because you were unresponsive, this was accepted per Rule 20618."

She realizes belatedly that it means the Pod. Which isn't present. "The Pod doesn't have permission to consent on my behalf," she says. "Where is it?"

"We apologize for the mistake, then," it says. "And only those undergoing or performing maintenance are permitted here, per Rule 41561."

"I'm surprised it let you keep it out," she says, slumping a bit. It's really hard to stay properly angry at these fucking weirdos. They keep not responding the right way to her attitude. So she's still frustrated, but… At least there's no Rule telling them to follow her around.

"It was… Rather insistent," the maintenance unit says delicately. "But the Rules are sacred."

That might've been a satisfying argument to watch. She's almost sad she missed it. But only almost.

"And it can't come in until I'm done with maintenance?" she asks, just to be sure. 

"No," the maintenance unit confirms.

She leans back, suddenly a lot more content with waiting here until her injuries are fixed. Though even stealing - being given? - energy like this can't fix everything, so she suspects certain parts will still need to be replaced. 

"I need a fuel filter to finish maintenance," she says. 

"...Unfortunately we do not stock the kind of filter you use," the maintenance unit admits reluctantly. "It is an oversight, but one that will take time to address."

She sighs. So much for that idea… "Fine," is all she says, before leaning back to focus on the maintenance she can do. 

The maintenance unit seems to realize that's a dismissal, because it turns to go. But, before it leaves: "I am Nightingale. If you need further assistance, you may ask for me."

…Ugh, now they have names?

She huffs something that might be 'whatever,' then closes her eyes. 

She's left alone after that. 

Soon enough she's been patched up enough she can't really justify continuing to hide out in the maintenance bay. And being looked after itches. She doesn't like it. So she leaves, and that stupid Pod immediately glues itself to her side. ( Fortunately not literally. She'd break it if it tried.)

"Analysis," the Pod says, "This unit cannot perform its intended function if separated from Unit A2."

She rolls her eyes. "Have you considered I don't want you to 'perform your intended function?' And I don't want you consenting to maintenance for me. Ask next time."

"Negative," it shoots back, making her scowl. "Unit 2B's orders were clear, and ensuring Unit A2 receives proper maintenance is part of providing support."

She flips it off, tiredly. Her fingers are almost starting to ache from how often she's been doing that. "Before you start in on it… I'm going to go get that replacement part." She still doesn't really want to, but - she needs a bit of time away from the surrealism of these Trials.

"That will be beneficial to continued performance," it says, and despite its unchanging tone she thinks it almost sounds smug.

A2 huffs and stalks out into the main hallways.

…Where a passing machine lifeform congratulates her on her performance in the Trials, and says it's been cheering for her, and she shouldn't give up - 

She'd been kind of tempted to change her mind from going to the Resistance camp out of spite. Now, though, she can't leave this fucking place fast enough. 

She brushes off the machine lifeform, and heads immediately for the elevator up, as fast as she can without breaking into a sprint.

(She does start sprinting once she's back on the desert sand, though. She doesn't want to stretch out this part of the journey.)

Chapter Text

The desert is massive, and she'd been pretty deep into it. Even once she leaves the seemingly endless expanse of sands, there's a jagged maze of tunnels and rifts cut through desiccated mountains and hills. But it's less sandy here, even if the ground is still cracked and dry. And eventually she hits scraggly patches of vegetation - a thorny asshole of a flowering vine the Pod tells her is a 'desert rose' pops up first. (She tumbles through some during one of the fights she gets into on the way back to the city. The thing hurts like a bitch. ) Then groundcover with leaves like wax, and weird bulbous things covered in spines, and assorted other plants that would like to communicate a thorough 'fuck you' to the rest of the world. 

She can almost respect that, actually. She idly avoids stepping on any of the little assholes.

The cliffs eventually fall away in favor of the white bones of ancient buildings, then the remnants of an enormous wall whose ruins encircle the area the Resistance has holed up in. The city beyond is in unusually good shape, enough there's even usably intact buildings. That wall must have done something, she guesses. 

Maybe made sure whoever lived here got to watch as everyone around them died before they finally kicked it too. 

She scowls at the thought, then goes to find some machine lifeforms to take her mind off it. The ones around here are at least good for a brawl…

She gets into a few good scrapes. Takes some hits, steals enough energy off their network to make up for it. Doesn't really come out any the worse for wear, and since she'll be at the camp soon she's picking up assorted useful extras as she goes. Maybe she'll be able to trade, or just give Anemone a bit of a gift…

Ugh.

She's going to be seeing Anemone soon. 

There's not much else she can do, though. She's run down a lot of her denial. Run away to a lot of places.

Even she's got a limit to how long she can run. 

She takes the long way around anyways, even with the Pod trying its hardest to give her more efficient directions. She's taking her sweet time about this. 

Which means she stumbles across a decidedly odd scene - a bunch of stubbies attacking a weird kind of machine, a model she hasn't seen before. The strange model isn't defending itself. She watches them for a second, bemused, catches sight of the stubbies' red eyes - and flicks her sword out, neatly bisecting the lot.

They fall apart, and the strange model turns to look at her. Its eyes are… Green? That's new. 

"Oh, thank you for saving me, stranger!" the weird machine exclaims.

A2 rolls her eyes. "I wasn't saving you. I was killing them. Killing machines is what I do." She raises an eyebrow. "And you're a machine too."

Her, spoiling for a fight? Always. 

But the stupid thing doesn't take the clear invitation to try and kill her. Instead it raises its arms a little. "Please, wait! I have no intention of fighting you - my name is Pascal," another one with a name? "And it's true I'm a machine lifeform. But I detest conflict!"

…Fucking seriously. The machines in the Trials had made sense. They like to fight. She likes to fight, and the weird rules added enough fun - and the machine lifeforms were so remote that anyone who stumbled on them probably deserved to get stabbed for sheer stupidity anyways - that she'd played along for a time. (She still left them alive when she left, but… She's not thinking about that.)

This? This does not make sense. 

"A machine lifeform that hates fighting…" she says, almost to herself. "Not just fighting, but all conflict… What a joke." The thing is so nonthreatening that her attention drifts away from it, into her own dark thoughts. "That those creatures who slaughtered so many of us… Could just put down their weapons and walk off… I swore to never leave the fight. To make them pay."

She isn't, actually, talking to the weird machine lifeform anymore. If it attacks her, she'll kill it. Easy enough. So, nothing to worry about. 

It apparently didn't realize that, because it addresses her again, saying, "I see… If killing me will save your soul… Then so be it."

She glances up at it, refusing to let on that it surprised her - half that it's still there and chatting, half what it said. And then she glares as its words sink into her processors. 

It doesn't take her long, though, to make her decision. 

Which is to turn on her heel and start stalking away. Directly towards the Resistance Camp, this time. She's sick of these little - distractions. 

"Wait," the machine lifeform calls, "You aren't going to kill me?"

She huffs. "Just shut up and leave me alone, before I change my mind."

Threat delivered - and the source of her annoyance falling silent behind her - she breaks into a run and continues on her way. 

And a barely audible "Thank you…" chases her the rest of the way there. 

The Resistance Camp is… Big. Bigger than she'd expected. (Bigger by far than Rose's had been. Possibly ever, even setting aside its fallen state by the time A2 saw it…) Anemone's - done well for herself, she guesses. 

A2 can't say the same. 

No one stops her as she walks in, though they at least have a proper gate. They just confirm she's an android and not infected. 

Well, Anemone's done well with population. A2 has a bone to pick with her about her security measures. Maybe she should give these idiots a taste of the mistakes they're making…

…Later. She came here for a reason, as Pod 042 keeps oh so helpfully reminding her. 

She winds deftly through the Camp itself, getting all the way to the command tent totally unopposed. Sloppy. 

And Anemone is standing there, leaning over maps or a report or - it doesn't matter. She's standing there, facing away from A2.

And as A2 approaches, she turns, and then she's standing there and staring at A2 with something complicated on her face. "Number Two…" she breathes out. "You're alive…"

A2 tries not to fidget as she looks to the side and says, "Sorry I haven't been in touch."

Anemone shakes her head. "No, it's fine. That you've survived… That's all I care about."

Since when was Anemone - paranoid, ruthless Anemone - this nice? 

Maybe A2 should've stayed in the desert. 

On the other hand, the machines there kept being way too nice too . She just can't win, can she.

"But…" Anemone continues, "As far as I know… No one else made it out." Quietly: "I had to kill Number 21 with my own hands."

A2 takes a deep, even breath. Closes her eyes. "I'm sorry," she says, as sincerely as she can. 

(She understands. She'd seen the flash of red eyes that Number 21 tried to hide from them, especially from Lily. She'd been crushed by that same hopelessness. Selfishly grateful that Anemone, the one who always did what was necessary, had volunteered to stay behind. To keep Number 21 company. To protect her. To put her down when the time came.)

Anemone closes her eyes for a moment. Looks uncomfortable. A2's stomach develops a weird feeling in it. 

"No," Anemone starts. "It's…" She closes her eyes again. Takes several deep breaths. Then visibly decides to change the subject. "I should let you know - there's a YoRHa member staying here, who looks just like you - "

"I know," A2 interrupts, her own voice surprising her with how raw it is. "2B. She's dead." Anemone's eyes widen in shock, and A2 forces herself to keep going. "I had to kill her with my own hands."

Her stomach feels worse. Her vision is disrupted. She's - 

She can't say the rest, suddenly. Can't explain herself. Can't justify it. (Was it justifiable? Was any of it?)

But she used the same words Anemone did, and she sees when that understanding washes into Anemone's eyes. "Then - I'm sorry," Anemone says, and her gaze is too sympathetic for A2 to handle. But… She can't run away. Not at this point. So she just looks away. Anemone lets her. 

And Anemone changes the subject again. "You're welcome in our camp. I'll have someone show you around - "

A2… Realizes, suddenly, that she knows the layout.

That despite having never been in the city before - she'd cut around it when going to the desert, what with the bridge being destroyed - she'd known exactly where to go to take the 'long way around.' That she hadn't given the Pod time to give her updated instructions on her path back. 

She remembers 2B speaking to her, that horrible moment in the desert. 

"No need," she says, and almost winces at the flicker of disappointment in Anemone's eyes. "I know my way around already," she says, lamely, trying to make it sound less like a rejection. "2B - she shared her memories with me."

She was going to just blame the sword. An external repository. Something A2 can reference. Not something within her. Not something she's let into her heart. 

But she's realizing another thing. 

That 2B knew that weird machine. Knew Pascal.

It's… Dizzying. But A2 forces herself to keep it together. To stay calm and collected and not let the feral wounded thing in her head slip its leash.

"I see…" Anemone says, voice quiet. "Then - you should know. We found 9S." A2's breath hisses in through her teeth, involuntarily. "He's pretty banged up and had been exposed to a logic virus, so our team is keeping him in extended maintenance mode… But they think he'll be fully repaired soon."

"...Good," A2 says, feeling distant from herself. 

"And you can use 2B and his old room, as long as you'd like," Anemone continues.

A2 closes her eyes. Forces herself to say: "Only until 9S wakes up. He won't want to see me."

"...He knows?" Anemone asks, and A2 only nods. "Alright. I'll give you a warning when the maintenance team thinks he's close to waking up, too."

"Thanks, Anemone," A2 says, voice barely audible. 

"You're my comrade, A2," she says, and pain lances through A2's core. "And if you need anything… I'll tell my people to provide it."

"...There's something I need, yeah," A2 says, almost reluctant at the idea of taking it for free. But it's what she came here for. And she can make it up to Anemone later. "My fuel filter's busted."

Anemone confirms the make and model with her, then: "I don't know if we have any in stock… We don't carry - YoRHa parts, usually. It hasn't come up before. You'll have to ask the supply trader to be sure, though."

"Ugh…" A2 groans. "If you don't have it, who will?"

"...There's someone we trade with, who could make one for you," Anemone says. 

Her careful tone sets off red flags in A2's mind. "Who?"

"A village led by an individual known as Pascal - " Anemone starts. 

Before A2 cuts her off. "That machine? Really?" There's a tickle at the back of her head, like acknowledging 2B opened a gate in her mind - suddenly, before Anemone can do more than frown, "Because they're better at manufacturing fine parts than you, but their pacifism means they struggle to collect raw materials…" Her voice sounds odd even to her own ears. She's dizzy.

"Yes," Anemone says, a new wariness in her eyes. "They're peaceful." But A2 didn't need to be told that. "Number Two… When you said 2B shared her memories - "

A2 shakes her head. "It's fine, Anemone." She looks at the ground. "Whatever it ends up meaning… She gave them to me. I took them from her."

Anemone's quiet for a long moment. Then she says, "Before you leave, there's - something I want to share with you. A record I made. Of - what happened."

…A2 doesn't want to read it. She has to read it. 

So she does. She reads Anemone's account of their shared nightmare. She reads of Anemone's own despair after, her thoughts of killing herself, a mirror of A2 - 

Of A2, who desperately, viciously, hadn't wanted to kill herself. Who didn't want to die. Who took any excuse just to have something to go towards, to put her feet in front of her one after the other - who was willing to set aside what she'd thought she valued, to let A4 sacrifice herself, because she can't fucking die here - 

2B was stronger than her, in the end. 2B - was able to choose what was necessary. Wasn't terrified of dying, at the cost of everything she loved. Was at peace.

A2 closes her eyes, and thanks Anemone, and swallows down the poisonous words trying to crawl up her throat. 

She takes Anemone up on the bed. She's not going to have it for long. She probably won't have it again. 

She should be pushing forward. Getting a new fuel filter.

But she's… Tired. 

Just…

She wants to turn off for a while, somewhere this probably won't get her killed.

She wants to rest.