Here I am, old man in a dry month,
Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain.
- T.S. Eliot "Gerontion"
The Turks were never heroes.
They were never soldiers, never administrators, never anything more than garbagemen and castaways. The suit was the only thing of class, the quiet acknowledgement the only thing of honor. Some were fooled. Some just... wanted that life.
I've been alive for a very long time.
Was it mako? No. I'm starting to wonder if maybe I got my age wrong when I guessed... I've always been a little older than I really am. The kid was right, but I won't ever tell him that. Suffice to say, being around as long as I have, especially the whole being dead part...
You learn some things.
Was I evil? Yes. I've done things that a person shouldn't be able to get away with unless they kill themselves afterwards and accept their torment in hell. And I did it all for no other reason than it was the thing to do. And they saw that... after a time. You couldn't be a Turk and have a conscience... not in the early days.
Some things have changed. I never thought the brat would grow into regret like he has. Or that... so many of us would survive. I expected that the kids from administration would. They're smart. Seeing as Scarlet and Reeve are still around, I was right.
But Tseng? I'd always known that there was something i more /i to that one. His shadow too. Mentors and students all mangled into one and looking up past the rubble... poetic things that always tickled me.
"So what have you been doing all this time, old man?" the ghost says to me. I can't help but smile... because here was a Turk that became a hero. He's lost that arrogant glare, that trim appearance. Just like I've long since started to go gray.
"I've been waiting for the world to end, haven't you?" Familiar chuckle and I don't really feel so old. Not quite. He always used to tell me that I shouldn't act so withered...
"Not quite."
"Well, there have been a few things of note since you disappeared..."