Memoirs of the Forgotten

[Durandal]

A new day, the same old nightmare. The stench, the sounds, the sights. I could scarcely believe that people managed to down food while covered in their own waste. And for that matter I could scarcely believe "Pilot First Class" Lee Deringer was giving Leniex's high security inmates their daily bread - a half truism - as it resembled rock in more ways than anything that once came from a wheat field.

Either way, that day I set out with a strange sense of determination or duty, at least as much as can be had when walking through the valley of decay and death, the guards hovering around the inmates as a vulture would a dying animal. The difference between the two is that a vulture wouldn't keep it's next meal alive for its own sick satisfaction.

159, 158, 157.

I was getting closer.

I had always tried my best to look disinterested and broken as usual. If the guards picked up on anything, I'd rather not think about what awaited me. So far since my three month stay in hell, silence and detachment had been what kept me alive. A few of them had tried to draw me into their circle, but disinterest had kept me ignored. The only way I could deal with being in the situation that I was.

Compassion was a crime punishable in the most severe ways, mostly by one's peers. And I had to find out just who she was before that.

Cell one hundred and forty six. I looked around a bit and gulped before leaning in closer.

"Why the apprehension?" She spoke for the first time, not bothering to lift her head, voice low and monotone, yet with a faint sense of innocence.

"You can do what you want, I'm not going to put up a fight." She added, clarifying her statement, still not bothering to make eye contact. Not out of fear, I realized. Rather out of her own sense of detachment and apathy.

I stood there for what felt like an hour before just barely managing to choke out a few words. I don't know what came out of my mouth, but it must have been something moving, because what happened next remains etched into my memory 'til this day.

She crawled over to the piece of bread - that could be called bread rather than rock - I had placed in front of her, feeling it a bit, almost as though it were some foreign object of great intrigue. She lifted her head up and looked into my eyes for a bit, choosing her words, finally opting for something simple.

"Thank.. you."

I didn't say anything, but smiled at her for a few seconds before pulling myself away from her cell and continuing down the hall.

How naive I was. Back then I was too young to think that the future could change at any moment. I remember it like it was yesterday, Joyeuse's rebellion having me transferred to the 333rd, the Legion's heavy assault fighter squadron the very next day.

But I never forgot.

For whatever reason, I never forgot that woman.