Author's Note: I got this idea from listening to Mako's "Leaves on the Vine" and crying. Lots and lots of crying. Anyways, Read, Review, and Enjoy!
-Nate
Soldier
December 10th, 2042
Delsin trudged up the once-grassy hill, now covered with snow white as sea foam. He shivered as the cold wind nipped at every exposed bit, cutting into his otherwise-warm leather jacket, and pulled the jacket closer to him, feeling the prickle of stubble over soft cow-skin. He'd been gone for seven years, but no more. He had to do this, had to pay his respects.
Abigail and Eugene were a few feet away, looking on with a mixture of sadness and concern. They both knew how important this day was to their friend, and as such had agreed to accompany him on the two month-long trek to this hill outside of what used to be Prescott, Arizona. He would need support when the time came, and they were determined to be his pillars.
He finally reached the top of the hill after what seemed like an eternity, to the simple concrete marker that was now crumbling from exposure and vegetation. Delsin crouched down and brushed away the damage with a wave of his hand, repairing the marker and re-etching the words burned there ever so carefully: To Reginald Rowe: Son, Soldier, Friend, and Brother.
He sniffled as he slung his pack off of his back; rummaging through the supplies stored inside before finding what he was looking for only served to make it worse. He pulled out a slightly dented six-pack of Seattle Hard Cider, lips parting slightly in a bittersweet smile as his mind went back to all the memories related to the drink. Delsin took a can from the pack and popped it open with a hssssh, then took a brief swig. He paused for a moment as he gazed at the marker, remembering the rage he had felt at Augustine, at Hank, at the Infected, at all of them for taking Reggie from him. His arm shook with the memory of his hands around the disgraced ex-Colonel's neck, of her eyes shifting from smug satisfaction to fear to finally nothingness as he decimated her attacks and defenses and choked her to death.
He shut his eyes for a moment, rubbing them in a vain attempt to wipe away the memories. The marker was still there when he opened them again, oblivious to his plight.
He sighed, then upturned the can of hard cider. "Happy birthday, Reg," he whispered as the cider seeped into the cold, hard ground, melting the vestiges of snow that still remained . "If-"- Delsin sucked in a breath, the tears starting to come up- "if only I could have saved you."
He drew in another breath as the final drops started to fall, then started to sob and shake, singing through the tears and blackness of closed eyelids:
Leaves from the vine,
Falling so slow,
Like fragile, tiny shells,
Drifting in the foam,
Little soldier boy, come marching home,
Brave soldier boy, comes marching home.
He remained slumped for a few minutes, grieving quietly, not noticing the movement behind him until Abigail's slender hand rested on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, voice choked up with shared sorrow.
Delsin turned to her, seeing a face mirroring his own through a shining film of tears, and drew her in close, crushing her faded green military coat against his jacket. "Don't be," he murmured in her. "It's over now. It's done."
She sucked in a breath, then gripped him tight for a moment before letting go. "I love you," she whispered.
Delsin smiled again, a small lift of his lips, as he looked at her, her chestnut-brown hair accentuated by streaks of neon pink, her hazel eyes and a lower lip scarred by a punch to the face with a studded ring. She was as beautiful as the day he'd rescued her from that monster, Shane, and he'd never give her up for anything in the world. "And I love you."
They drew closer, lips nearly touching, before Eugene made a sound halfway between a grunt and an attempt to clear his throat. "Um, guys? Shouldn't we be going already? Light'll be gone in the next few hours."
The two Conduits looked at Eugene, then at each other for a moment before Delsin shrugged. "Teen Angel's got a point."
"You guys do know how much I hate that name, right?" Eugene grumbled in a slowly-deepening voice, pulling his omnipresent hoodie over his head and crossing his arms.
Abigail turned and, seeing the strange child-like scene, laughed, an androgynous sound that Delsin had come to adore. "That he does, D, that he does. And don't worry, SIms, we won't use it again... much."
Eugene appeared to be scowling, though under that striped hoodie, it was hard to tell. Delsin drew in a deep breath through his nose before exhaling. "Alright," he said in a somewhat-loud voice, "let's go."
He hooked an arm around Abigail's waist, and the two of them walked away from the small memorial, not noticing the shimmer of light as a ghostly black-haired man dressed in a winter coat, a button-down shirt, and denim jeans dusted off his Sheriff badge and sat down on the marker, watching his brother and his two friends retreat, and confident of their return next winter.
P.S.: Check my profile; I updated it over the past few days with recent events, plans for the next month or so, and other vital information.