I know it's been a while since I've written anything, but...well, better late than never. *laughs*
So this one-shot was based on...let's just say an event that transpired. Not with me, but with someone close to me. This is going to be sad, so...be warned.
Disclaimer: I don't own Buzz Lightyear of Star Command.
The wind was cruel.
It shrieked and flew into his system as it passed over him like a cold angel of death.
He stared out into the horizon, lost in the painted strokes of warm and cool colors streaking against the large canvas of sky. The fading old day evaporated into a new night. After the night settled, it would stay for as long as it needed to reside until the next day could be born.
As was normal of life, death and rebirth.
But he was not ready for the changes.
Not ready for death to leave. It still lingered in him, a lifeless Ranger with all the fire snuffed out of him. His empty mind echoed back at him.
To an outsider, he was a stiff mannequin sitting out on the park bench located in some fragment of Capital Planet. With an arm stretched out on the bench and a leg crossed over another, he was immune to all that went on around him.
Weariness drained all form of the usual spirit a guardian of the galaxy was meant to have: a determined fighter ready to take on the evils plaguing the stars at any price.
When was the last time he had a fair amount of sleep?
Probably back to the beginning of time.
No wonder he also seemed old. Older than his own father figure.
With him gone….what now?
How would the Space Ranger Corps endure now without somebody like Nebula around?
The Rangers all usually possessed a united strength that usually held each of them together as they supported each other through tough and hopeful times.
"…So then why isn't it working now?" A quiet mutter to himself as he lifted his arm off the bench and onto his lap. He uncrossed his limbs as he leaned forward in his seat, as if to bend over and throw up. "Why did he have to be the one to go?" It was futile to find any other answer.
It was their job: to protect and serve, just as they were trained to do.
But…couldn't they be allowed to mourn for the Commander not just as Rangers….but as people as well?
He might have had a few rough patches with the leader of the space station, one of which itched an energy vampire and other side effects, but he was just as loyal to him as he was to Star Command itself. The former head of the Ranger Corps was there for him when he needed someone to be there for him, and he was there to sometimes provide words of oddly fitting wisdom when he needed it. And most of all…
Nebula was as proud of him as he was of any other member.
And to see him gone, like a puff of smoke…
It was like losing his own dad.
A great nerve snapped in him and he buried his head into his hands, hiding his wet face from all.
The hole that Nebula left behind swallowed him whole.
"Goodbye."
Fin.