- Thoughts From the Long Gone -


(Halo (c) Microsoft Studios, Bungie & related creators; Red vs. Blue (c) the Rooster Teeth team. Text (c) L.Q. Coverdale. Mentions of death and Church/Tex.)


What can you contemplate of life?

What can you contemplate of death?

What can you think of yourself

When you are fragmented?

I have nothing to surround me,

No solid form to take.

I am long gone from here,

Above the watching birds,

No more than memory.

I see her down there,

Sleeping soundly in

A tomb of ice and fire.

I wander on the wind,

My remaining consciousness frail.

Epsilon, who I could consider a son,

What would you think of me?

You bore the brunt of memory,

Of what I had to suffer in order

To engineer your birth.

But can it even be called that?

Could being torn so violently, so painfully

From me,

Be considered anything of creation in this world?

Are you just an abomination,

The black sheep who cannot wander home?

Why do I think of this?

I died so long ago.

I, a program;

Am I even supposed to have a soul?

Why can I still see Caboose, meandering around

As he tries to fix you?

Why can I see still Tucker

Trying to huddle in a cavern

As the sand blows and he thinks

Of how Junior is doing?

Why can I see still Donut,

Stuck in that sandstorm

As Grif lies around in a lush valley,

Simmons follows Sarge like a dog

(Of course)

And Sarge is polishing his shotgun?

There is something I recognized long ago:

I'm alive.

I died the day that EMP took me.

Will you watch over my son for me?

They say there's a Heaven out there;

I can't find it.

Maybe it's because of him,

And I can't leave because of him;

Will you watch him for me?

To great unjust he has been subjected,

And until now he has been neglected.

How can the son flourish without father,

Without mother?

(Why can't I get these thoughts out of my head?)

Though we all agreed we're idiots together,

I would not want to be bothered

To think he is still suffering somewhere.

I already can't believe how I went out;

As I sort through this confusion,

This scattering of thoughts in what remains of me,

Can you see to him for me?

Through mending and defending, I trust that,

In time,

You can fix him.

(Even if Caboose constantly sets things on fire.

Hey, watch that body! It was Tex's!)