Ruminations of a Survivor

[AuruemSaber]

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It's always strange for me when I feel the fresh breeze on my face.

To breathe fresh air, not tainted by the stench of smog or carrying that bitter metallic taste that poisoned the air of home. My stomach churns as I walk along the streets of this floating city, just as it always did when I had to land on Kurile, that fear of the platform beneath me suddenly giving way. The terror of the thought of sinking into that deep dark blue as my body desperately tries to grasp for air, yet only for it to let in saltwater that fills my lungs and causes me to choke.

I felt that same fear when I first arrived here many years ago. The evacuation ship had just landed; the war that had embroiled my life in constant sorrow, terror and yet also gave a rush no drug could ever match had just ended. Even more suddenly than it had begun.

I froze the moment I set foot on the ramp to disembark. Seeing that platform suspended above the crashing waves of the ocean had done something I thought Gallic airstrikes, artillery and cannon fire had rendered me immune to. Instilling a fear that hit me so deeply it made me freeze up.

Vicky had to help me off that ramp, hold my hand and squeeze it tight while I felt like a baby animal caught in blinding headlights, unable to move or think as the fear swallowed me whole. I wish I could say it was easy for me now, that I could laugh about it as a silly experience of a foolish girl who'd never set foot off the industrial hellscape that was Leeds.

But I can't; I still feel that fear even now, but its effects are not as pronounced. It is not robbing me of my ability to act, but it's still a fear I wish I could let go of. For I can never feel at ease here, that sweet sense of calm peace and general acceptance of life. That acceptance of myself and the things I've done that I couldn't find no matter where I went in this sector.

Things that I could feel with him at my side, even in the cold darkness of an unending void, in space that isn't mapped on any charts.

I find myself in dire need of that feeling as I continue through the city's busy streets. I can feel the scowl come across my face as I catch sight of the golden phoenix emblazed across a military recruitment advertisement I spy on a screen. I can already hear Gav's ranting from beyond the grave if he were to ever see it.

It makes me wonder, would it all be easier were he still here? Or would I simply just find myself let down by yet another friend?

The bitterness behind the thought stung, as did the shame that followed it. The hypocrisy was painfully evident even to me, after all the anger and vitriol I directed towards Alex for what he did to me, and now here I was doing the same to the same woman who helped me off that ramp years ago. A good woman, a woman whose skills were the opposite of mine. A healer, a doctor, not a killer nor a soldier. Vicky was a woman who still had the bravery to keep working on helping the sick and wounded under fire, my better in every way possible.

She had never wanted nor asked for anything from me, yet I still failed her. Despite all she'd done for me, I was still just as bad a friend to her as Alex, in spite of the fact that on more than one occasion, she saved me from crossing over to the other side of that line that divides the land of the living and the other realm.

Vicky managed to find happiness, a life, peace, and even love after the war. Was it unconscious jealousy that caused me to cut ties with her? The thoughts that they'd all be better off without me while I drowned in my own sorrow being a sweet and convenient lie to make it palatable for me?

To allow me to feel sorry for myself while they had found something they cherished?

And now I risk unravelling it all by asking for a favour related to a situation I know has already claimed the lives of innocent bystanders. Here I am, maybe about to drag Vicky and her love into this mess, potentially costing them their lives.

Yet despite knowing that fact, I feel as though I can't turn back and find someone else to ask this favour; it's as though there is no one else I can genuinely trust with this. Not when the potential answer to the fate of someone I not only care deeply for but also owe a debt I can never repay is on the line.

Not when there may still be a chance to save them, if not at least find the closure I could never get with Kels or Gav.

I feel a sense of dread building up in the pits of my stomach as I rise in the elevator to the floor of Vicky's apartment. I hadn't even thought about what I'd say or do if she even answered the door. Nor how do I answer the burning questions that seem to have consumed what remains of the Regiment while I was so distant, the questions about Kristoff. The complicated mess that I dread the potential judgment about if I let them all get too close to him.

Reaching the door, I can't stop the instinct to look at the best way to approach without risking taking fire through it, the best way to take out the lock and force entry into the apartment as if it were a target objective. I have to stop in my tracks and take a deep breath before simply hitting the doorbell like a civilian would. And I secretly pray that Vicky doesn't answer, that a stranger instead answers.

But that requires luck. Luck I simply don't have as the door slides open, and I see her. It's even worse than I could have imagined. She's smiling at me, delighted to see me, and I feel like a monster for what I'm about to ask.

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