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The Commander closed his office door, and came around to stand in front of him. At first he said nothing, only staring down at the seated Exo with an unreadable expression. Xan half expected him to demand their mission report. Instead Zavala asked quietly, “How are you doing?”
He shifted uncomfortably, but held his gaze. “I’m fine, Commander.”
Zavala frowned. “Why do you feel the need to lie to me, Alexander?” The older Titan pulled up a seat in front of him and sank into it with a sigh. “It doesn’t take a very trained eye to deduce something important happened.” His blue eyes flashed. “My Ghost picked up an extraordinarily high reading of Light energy the moment Cay’mala’s ship entered the hangar. And judging from the both of you it obviously did not come from her.”
The Exo’s face remained neutral. “Everything’s under control, Commander; there’s nothing more to worry about.”
“Oh? Is that right. Why is it then, that I see Arc energy scarring all over your armor?”
This time Xan dropped his gaze, not saying anything; his hands clenched together between his knees.
Zavala nodded, leaning back in his chair. “You had an episode.” A statement, not a question.
“Yes. And, no,” he mumbled, shifting awkwardly again. “I don’t know what it was.”
“Alexander – look at me, please.”
Xan snapped his eyes forward. The Awoken rarely bothered with such pleasantries; the fact he did so now was not to be taken lightly. “Yes, Zavala?”
His mentor smiled slightly. “Much better. Tell me what happened – what you remember.”
There were several moments of silence before the Exo spoke. “We went to the Fallen den on Venus, as you ordered; started to clear them out. Everything was going smoothly, hadn’t had any complications…until they brought in their ketch.” Xan paused, his breath hitching. “We had to scramble for cover near the cave wall, and hold them off from there. Cay ran out of ammo before I did. She used her Arc Blade, cleared off a good chunk of them. Ketch fired its cannon before she made it back to the rocks, though. Carried her back, popped my bubble, took out some more. Then I ran out of ammo – started using my rifle as a club when they got too close.
“My Ward went out a few minutes later, so they started pushing at us harder. Just, waves and waves of Dregs, wire rifle shots everywhere. Probably have new holes in my helmet for Banshee to fix.” Another pause, this one longer than before. “I was getting desperate,” he continued quietly, “desperate and angry. I’d just about hit my wall. We weren’t getting anywhere with me playing defensively, and if I didn’t do something we weren’t gonna make it out alive. But I didn’t know what the hell to do.” The Exo trailed off, lost in memory.
Zavala watched his student, impassive. Folded his arms over his chest.
Finally Xan seemed to shake himself. “I don’t know how or why it happened, or why this came out now. I saw a spark on my arm, immediately squashed the thought. Was not going there. Then the next Dreg that made it beyond our rocks met my fist, and it blew apart with a bang of lightning.” The Titan shrugged. “It was downhill from there.”
The Vanguard’s eyes widened slightly. “Which is all good news. What do you remember feeling?”
“To be completely honest, chief, I thought giving in meant I was gonna lose absolutely everything. The memories would come back full tilt, and everything that was me would dissolve into blood and fire. And there’d be no coming back this time.”
“But that is not what happened.”
“No. No, it wasn’t.” Xan chuckled breathlessly. “But I don’t know what it was that came in its place.”
Zavala leaned forward to rest on his knees, his gaze thoughtful. “Describe it. In a single word, if that’s easier.”
Xan thought for a long minute, staring at the dark stone of the far wall. “Clarity,” he admitted finally, bringing his yellow eyes to meet his mentor’s. “Clarity and silence. No flashbacks, no internal noises; nothing but the quiet of the storm.” He paused, then continued apprehensively, “So what does that mean?”
Zavala chuckled. “That is a question for Ikora and her Warlocks. I have never claimed to know the meaning behind how our Light manifests. I am still aware how…ill at ease you are handling Arc energy. However,” he added somberly, “I do know that everything happens for a reason.”
“But why now?” the Exo blurted, “Why at all?”
“Your Light responds to your command, Alexander; yours and yours alone. It is not a malevolent sentient being seeking to take over your action. You are what wills it to exist, and how to exist.” The older Titan gave a thin-lipped smile. “You are what decides the type of tool you need it to be.”
It was not the answer he wanted. Xan slumped in his chair, sighing raggedly. “But I can’t go back to what I was, Zavala,” he whispered, “I just…can’t. To be the storm, the utter destruction…I can’t.”
Zavala growled, “And who said that is what you would become?”
“That’s what happened last – ”
“Last time, yes! But you have moved past that, Alexander!” he thundered, rising to his feet. “Your past no longer controls you; I have told you this time and time again. You yourself told me you have buried it, put it behind you. This changes nothing.”
For all his height Xan felt small in the wake of his mentor’s vehemence. “I… then what am I?”
Zavala noticed his submissiveness, and mentally checked himself. His student never responded well to angry tirades. He sighed, then knelt; placed a gentle hand on Xan’s knee. “You are a Guardian, Alexander,” he murmured, “no matter what happens. Wielding lightning again does not make you a killer, just the same as carrying your Ward does not. You asked me how this was possible; I believe it is because, by becoming who you were meant to be, you have made it possible. As to why this happened now…only time will tell. But do not let this diminish you in any way. Handle your Light how you see fit, and do not let it confine you.”
Xan nodded, unable to speak.
The Vanguard stood, offered his hand to his student to help him up, which was accepted. “By all accounts your mission was a success,” he remarked, all business again, “I’ll expect your report in the morning.”
“Yes sir,” the Exo muttered. He still could sense the unusual quietness inside his head. Bowing shortly, he turned and strode to the door, the other Titan following behind. “Thank you for your time, Commander.” He put a hand on the handle to leave.
“Ah, one more thing, Alexander.”
Xan turned, expecting another question.
Instead he was enveloped in a tight hug, their armor clanking together faintly. Astonishment overcame him briefly…until he felt the eye of the storm vanish. His legs sagged as he hugged Zavala back, and he sighed heavily. “Thank you.”
“Always, Alexander,” he rumbled. A light pat on the back, and he released his hold. “Give Cay’mala my regards.”
“Of course.” The restored Striker Titan smiled crookedly, and left for the infirmary, the wooden door closing noisily behind him. Though the stillness had left him, the storm was still there under the surface; a calm power. He brought up a hand to see the sparks skittering over its metal surface, and he grinned.
A new tool, indeed.