Gone

Everything was so foggy, sight, sound, smell, pain, it was all so muted, like it was present but lesser somehow. Jamison-G144 knew he was hurt, he could feel where the SPI’s plating had curled into his side as it melted, but all he felt was the pressure of something against his skin, numb. It wasn’t important, no matter how much his training screamed that it was. The wound, the muffled sounds of plasma and gunfire all around him, the thunder of a Scorpion’s canon, the alarm instead his helmet droning, they were all nothing. All that mattered to him was in this bombed out living room.
 
There was a gaping hole in the roof, the edges singed black and glassy by the plasma mortar that made it, and the subsequent crater that took up most of the space. Sunlight bled through the opening, exposing the haze of dust that hung around them. He wanted to feel her there, but he couldn’t, not with the armor and the undersuit—not with the fog. He could see Margreet-G321 though, her armored form limp in his arms, but he could barely even feel the weight. He hadn’t felt her go cold, he’d been too busy dragging her inside.
 
He’d told her not to make the move, but she didn’t listen. Everyone else was dead, and she still didn’t listen. She saw the Troopers get hit, and that was all it took. She was off like rocket, hurtling towards the injured. She wasn’t Cassandra or Seung-ah, but she was still a healer first and Spartan second. The volley of spikes had hit her the moment she broke cover, one jutted out of her chest near the collar, one punched through her ribs, another sunk deep into her stomach.
 
He’d told her not to; he’d begged her in fact. The Troopers’ wounds had been fatal, and she couldn’t have done anything for them. Had she known that? Was she just too kind to let them die in agony? Or had it been something else? She’d had Antez bleed out on her, Karolos had been crushed with a hammer, and Marie had just vanished when she’d shielded them from a mortar. There hadn’t been anything but a crater, not even ash. Each death stung more than the last, but he thought they’d found their strength in each other, he’d found his in her. Now his mind had a hundred questions for her, ones she wouldn’t ever get to answer One stuck out the most.
 
“Did you want this Margo?” His voice trembled as he whispered down to her, calling her by the nickname that he alone had for her. When they’d been little, she’d written her name so sloppily that it looked it wasn’t her real one. When he tried to introduce himself, he wanted to look smart by already knowing her name. He’d looked at one of her assignments when they turned them in to Deep Winter to find it out.
 
‘Hi Margo-rot’ he’d said, and before he could even say his name she’d started laughing at him. She thought he was stupid, then she hit him when she got embarrassed about her handwriting, and suddenly they were inseparable. It hadn’t been a shock when they were placed in Shamshir together, but they’d been ecstatic about it anyway.
 
During JAILBREAK they’d been some of the last on the run. It’d been her who’d convinced him, in the spur of the moment, to give in to Karolos and Marie’s urging. She had got him to drop his dumb obsession with Top Honors, and just live a little.
 
Through the fog he could still feel it all, see it all—the two of them sitting, backs against one another, rain running down their visors. They’d laughed, and laughed, talked for hours, promised to protect one another. She’d promised to protect him, but now she was gone.
 
He felt hot tears sting his eyes, burning as they rolled down his cheeks. She was limp in his arms, head tilted back towards the sky, perfectly still. “You told me you’d stay with me you know. You promised.” He chuckled a little, the tears streaming down the teen’s face.
 
Jamison thought about the night before Earth. He thought about how she’d looked in his eyes as they stood there in the dark, how she’d leaned in, and he had too. It was awkward, more than a little strange, but that was to be expected from bumbling teenagers with no concept of romance. e’d liked it. It felt right, and she said the same thing. He’d felt funny after, but in a good way, and now it had all been ripped away.
 
He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with the feelings he had besides put them in a box. Maybe address them after the action, like he’d been trained, but he couldn’t. She was gone. She was there in his arms, but she wasn’t really.The thing in his arms was just her shell.
 
He moved a hand from her back to the seals on her helmet. He gave it a tug, and it came free with a hiss. He tossed the bowl away and looked at her. Margreet’s sharp green eyes were wide open, blood smeared across her face from where she’d coughed it up. Jamison ran his hand softly through his best friend’s cropped black hair, barely feeling it beneath his touch.
 
“Always told me I had to keep my promises and you, you...“ He didn’t finish, his breath went short as he fought to hold himself together. “You... I... I don’t...” Jamison couldn’t find any words as he wiped the blood from her peaceful face, Closing her eyes with gentle fingers.
 
His cradled her there alone, a scorpion thundering nearby, the walls around them shaking. In that moment he wasn’t a Spartan anymore, not even a soldier, he was just a boy, suddenly alone in a cruel galaxy. Years of training and discipline unraveled in an instant.
 
Jamison pressed his helmet against her chest and pulled her against him. He screamed before completely falling apart, his breath catching between the sobs. He’d have given anything, anything just to hear her say something, just one more thing.
 
But it was for nothing, she was gone. The hardest goodbye was the one he hadn’t been able to say.
Category:The Weekly
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