*--*
I was almost there . . . . I could see the door. Quatre was sitting outside, his face pallid. "Quatre, are you alright?"
He nodded. "I'm fine, WuFei. I think someone is hurt in there, though, and . . . and they're one of ours. I'm too afraid to look in and see who it is."
"I'm going in. Watch for Kristen." Quatre nodded.
Walking in the door, I immediately saw Trowa aiming a gun at Mariemaia, Deakim already on the floor. "Trowa, we were supposed to-" He cut me off with a nod in Deakim's general direction. Right behind him, almost shielded completely behind his body, was a blonde-haired girl. "Trowa, that isn't . . . ." Trowa nodded, his eyes cold. "I . . . I'm so sorry, Trowa." I bowed. "I grieve with you for your loss."
"Don't worry. Deakim's not dead. He's still alive."
*--*
"Hello?" I yelled into my headset. I had turned it to B-0 so I could talk to everyone. WuFei was still on B-5, so he couldn't hear me, but I was hoping *someone* was listening. "Quatre? Trowa? Jaime? Is anyone listening? Hello?!"
"-hear you. Kristen? Is that you?"
"Duo? Yeah, it's me. There's something going on at the control room. I heard gunshots."
"You didn't get the message earlier, then," Duo said. "This place is full to the gills with 'armed personnel.'"
"Duo and I are making our way out of a mess right now," Heero cut in. "Quatre's been hurt-"
I gasped. "Oh, no! Is he okay?"
"He's fine," Heero said calmly. "But Jaime's dead."
That stopped me. "What?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.
"She's gone, Kristen . . . ." Duo sympathized.
Jaime dead? How could that be? How could that be real?
She'd been my best friend forever. Teased me about my hair and music as I teased her about her horses and obsessive shopping. How long ago had that been? A hundred years?
She'd wanted to live on Earth, in Montana, and have lots of horses, and maybe be a veterinarian. But she wasn't sure that would ever happen. And of course all that was in the past, too.
She had this way of seeming untouched by what went on around her. Unaffected. Above. She was a person who could walk through a car wash and come out dry. She could move through a mosh pit and never be jostled. She could wear white clothes to ride horseback and somehow never get a spot on her.
But the war had touched her. She'd changed, and she'd known she was changing. The war had revealed a hidden part of her soul. She alone, of all of us, she alone liked it. Loved it, even. She had enjoyed the fight. Even Heero didn't revel in the glory of the battle.
Sometimes I imagined her as a Viking. Or as a knight on a quest. That's what she was: a joyful warrior.
And she had died fighting against impossible odds.
Like a hole inside me. Like someone had taken a knife and carved a hole in my chest. Like I might cave in, be swallowed up and disappear in that hole. I had grown up with Jaime since the seventh grade. For Christ's sake, we were only eighteen!
Poor Jaime. Poor Quatre.
And now, all of us, the survivors. The victim-perpetrators.
Barging into the control room, I found WuFei. "Tell me it isn't true," I begged him, "tell me she's still alive."
*--*
I was almost there . . . . I could see the door. Quatre was sitting outside, his face pallid. "Quatre, are you alright?"
He nodded. "I'm fine, WuFei. I think someone is hurt in there, though, and . . . and they're one of ours. I'm too afraid to look in and see who it is."
"I'm going in. Watch for Kristen." Quatre nodded.
Walking in the door, I immediately saw Trowa aiming a gun at Mariemaia, Deakim already on the floor. "Trowa, we were supposed to-" He cut me off with a nod in Deakim's general direction. Right behind him, almost shielded completely behind his body, was a blonde-haired girl. "Trowa, that isn't . . . ." Trowa nodded, his eyes cold. "I . . . I'm so sorry, Trowa." I bowed. "I grieve with you for your loss."
"Don't worry. Deakim's not dead. He's still alive."
*--*
"Hello?" I yelled into my headset. I had turned it to B-0 so I could talk to everyone. WuFei was still on B-5, so he couldn't hear me, but I was hoping *someone* was listening. "Quatre? Trowa? Jaime? Is anyone listening? Hello?!"
"-hear you. Kristen? Is that you?"
"Duo? Yeah, it's me. There's something going on at the control room. I heard gunshots."
"You didn't get the message earlier, then," Duo said. "This place is full to the gills with 'armed personnel.'"
"Duo and I are making our way out of a mess right now," Heero cut in. "Quatre's been hurt-"
I gasped. "Oh, no! Is he okay?"
"He's fine," Heero said calmly. "But Jaime's dead."
That stopped me. "What?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.
"She's gone, Kristen . . . ." Duo sympathized.
Jaime dead? How could that be? How could that be real?
She'd been my best friend forever. Teased me about my hair and music as I teased her about her horses and obsessive shopping. How long ago had that been? A hundred years?
She'd wanted to live on Earth, in Montana, and have lots of horses, and maybe be a veterinarian. But she wasn't sure that would ever happen. And of course all that was in the past, too.
She had this way of seeming untouched by what went on around her. Unaffected. Above. She was a person who could walk through a car wash and come out dry. She could move through a mosh pit and never be jostled. She could wear white clothes to ride horseback and somehow never get a spot on her.
But the war had touched her. She'd changed, and she'd known she was changing. The war had revealed a hidden part of her soul. She alone, of all of us, she alone liked it. Loved it, even. She had enjoyed the fight. Even Heero didn't revel in the glory of the battle.
Sometimes I imagined her as a Viking. Or as a knight on a quest. That's what she was: a joyful warrior.
And she had died fighting against impossible odds.
Like a hole inside me. Like someone had taken a knife and carved a hole in my chest. Like I might cave in, be swallowed up and disappear in that hole. I had grown up with Jaime since the seventh grade. For Christ's sake, we were only eighteen!
Poor Jaime. Poor Quatre.
And now, all of us, the survivors. The victim-perpetrators.
Barging into the control room, I found WuFei. "Tell me it isn't true," I begged him, "tell me she's still alive."
*--*
