The sound of rain splattering against the ground cut through the quiet night on one of the galaxies many mid rim planets. The rhythmic splatter of the rain was replaced every now and again by the crack of a lightning bolt as it lit up the sky with it's purple fire. It was through the streets of a city under such conditions that Ghost walked, his hands in the pockets of his black-brown trench coat. Through his pockets he felt the emptiness where his blasters would normally sit, he had discarded them, along with his rifle. He did not need them today.

Smog filled the air as he made his way down the muddy street and towards the cities outskirts, the few people he passed wearing masks to protect themselves from the smogs toxic fumes. Normally any newcomer to the planet would have reeled from the putrid fumes, but Ghost had been here before many times, more than he cared to count. It was rare for someone in his profession to visit a place more than once, for the sake of caution. Usually he stuck to this trend, but this place was one of the few exceptions he made, out of personal interest.

After minutes of traveling through the beat down streets of the cities outermost structures he arrived at a vast open field. This was the only place remotely near the city that grass grew, and it's blades could be seen swaying between the still structures one would identify as gravestones. Ghost stood at the edge of the field for some time, staring out over the rows and rows of graves that extended as far, and indeed further than one without aid could see at twilight. After what seemed like hours to Ghost he stepped over the dividing line and into the field, walking silently down the rows, the only sound throughout the field being the rain that had been falling for hours now.

As he traveled down the path the gravestones got progressively newer. The ones at the start had been no more than crumbling piles of rock, while the ones he reached now had retained most of their form, along with their engravings. Here he stopped, turning slightly to his right and stepping off the laid path, proceeding to travel between the rows of gravestones in silence. With each step he took time seemed to slow a little, the sounds and senses of everything round him dulling at the same time. Eventually he stopped, then after a minute of looking straight ahead he turned to his left and looked down, resting his gaze on a pair of graves.

The engravings on these gravestones were somewhat smudged, making them difficult to read, along with the fact they were in a long dead language, one that few throughout the galaxy would recall. Though he scanned over the words through instinct, he did not translate or process them, he knew what they said, and he had no wish to read them again. There was only one part of the engraving he paid any attention to, these ones far newer and clearly visible, though in the same language. To all but those few it would seem like inconsequential scribblings, but to those who could understand it read, "They're songs have ended, but have not been forgotten".

He stood there for he knew now how long, paying no attention to the passage of time as he remembered why he had come, why he always came, the nightmares. They were waiting there for him whenever he sought rest, whenever void like silence surrounded him, and most of all, when he tried to forget. As he stood like a statue and thought time passed in the blink of an eye, and before he knew it dawn had come to greet this side of the planet, fresh and rosy fingered as always.

As the light struck his eyes Ghost blinked, returning from his trance as he watched light creep it's way over the horizon and towards the city. It was time to leave, dawn signaled his imminent departure. Before he left, however, he pulled from his pocket a flower, it's petals a deep red, and it's center a bright yellow. It was not native to this planet, nor this part of the galaxy, nay not even the galaxy itself. When he first woke it had taken him half a century to find it's growing grounds, but now he did not regret the time he had spent searching for it.

He set the blossom down gently in the center of the two graves, watching the edges of it's petals as they started to shift color, the red lightening to become orange. With the flower in place he took his leave, departing the graveyard and returning to the polluted city, eventually finding his way off planet to once again travel the galaxy at large. But no matter how far he would travel, no matter how long it took him to return, they would be waiting, the dead always were.