A/N:

Hey guys! I'm baaaack! Anyways, just wanted to let you all know that I'm in desperate need for an editor right now. I've been reading all my chapters lately, and I realized it was still crappy and it needs professional help. Just PM me if you're interested. Thanks. :)

January 21th 2185 C.E.

Hotel Requiem / Illium

"Remind me again, why are we here in the hotel grocery store?" Albert Johnson asked no one in particular, his hand carrying a shopping basket filled with an assortment of various meats, cheeses, and spices. Next to him, Adrian Walters was in the process of picking up a loaf of bread when he sighed annoyingly.

"Because the Colonel ordered us to," the former XO answered simply, putting the bread into Johnson's basket. "now stop asking dumb questions."

"It ain't dumb, dammit…!"

Here we go again…Ryuji Suzumi aggravatingly thought to himself. This was already the seventh time they were going at it, and that was just for this day alone. Seeing them bicker and stare daggers at each other reminded him a lot of Aleksi and Hadley, and just thinking about the former only made him sad, realizing that his friend was no longer among the living.

To be honest, he wasn't really that close to Alekseyev per se, but his death hit Hadley the hardest. And ever since they were forced to leave the dying militiaman behind, the young private hadn't even uttered a single word right until now, and it worried him a lot. The Colonel had told them, based on his observations anyway, that in addition to George's combat stress reaction, the poor guy was also suffering from a possible case post-traumatic vocal disarticulation; a purely psychological condition which rendered him unable to speak after witnessing an extremely disturbing event, even though there was no actual catastrophic injury to his vocal chords.

As of right now, there were currently no available remedies or any viable treatments for the rare disorder, and just thinking about the possibility that George Hadley was going to be mute for the rest of his life troubled the corporal greatly. It had already been almost a full week since they barely escaped Ferris Fields alive, and he noticed that nobody really liked to talk about what happened. It was understandable though, seeing as it was still a sore topic to all of them, and the wound was still fresh. Besides the nearly catatonic private, their shuttle pilot was still in a state of shock and wouldn't stop grieving; while the former colonel was already on the road to recovery, which was good news to all of them.

They desperately needed a leader right now, a tough foundation in which they could all rely on when the shit hits the fan again, and he truly believed that Henry Rodriguez was still that man, even when the guy was still blaming himself for not saving the entire colony. Now that he really thought about it, there was nothing the man could've done differently that would have resulted in a different outcome. The colonists would still get taken by those four-eyed bugs, and if it wasn't for his former CO, they'd probably get taken too. But he couldn't blame him for feeling all that immense guilt, and if it had happened to anyone else, they would've probably lost their mind a long time ago. Plus the fact that his wife and unborn baby got taken only made the man's suffering even worse enough as it is.

He could still remember what had happened to his commanding officer a few days ago, when the guy returned from the bar near the hotel: the weeping, the grief-stricken howls of despair coming from his room, he still remembered all of it way too clearly. Now though, seeing him slowly recuperating from that intense emotional trauma was a blessing, at least. Suzumi was so deep in thought that he barely even noticed Johnson elbowing him in the shoulder.

"Yo, Rye!" The southerner elbowed him once more, finally getting his attention. "You still with us, dude?"

"Yeah," The former corporal responded, massaging the area he knew was going to bruise soon. "what is it?"

"I was just going to ask you about something." With that, Johnson presented two types of seasoning in front of him. "Which was one's better for pasta? Basil leaves, or rosemary?" Suzumi just stared at the man for a few seconds, still reeling from the sudden question the guy asked him.

"Seriously? Why the hell are you asking me for?"

"Because our mighty fine XO here says basil leaves are better, and I happen to disagree."

"For the last time," Walters joined in on the conversation, his voice dripping with frustration. "rosemary is too strong, it's going to destroy the sauce's flavor."

"And how the hell would you know, huh? I haven't even seen you cook."

"Do you even know how to cook?" And at that, the two of them just argued further on which spice is better suited for the pasta. After that, their topic shifted to cooking, and who was better at it, then to their respective love lives. Which didn't make any form of sense; making the former corporal wonder how both of them ended up on that particular point of discussion.

For God's sakes. Suzumi massaged the bridge of his nose to soothe away what he felt was an approaching headache. With the two of them grouped together, they would probably just argue all day instead of getting things done, and it probably be a miracle if they actually got it done. They were still going at it for five more minutes until he finally intervened.

"Why don't we just take both of them?" Both Johnson and Walters slowly looked at him at the same time, their faces showing looks of disbelief and barely contained anger.

"No!" The two of them replied in unison, refusing to even acknowledge his suggestion. After that, they just continued arguing over another pointless topic, this time going over the fact at whose better at picking up chicks.

Fuck it.

It took them a while before they finally settled their differences about a bunch of other trivial things, before they finally decided that pesto and cayenne peppers were the logical choice for the pasta they were going to make. As they entered the elevator taking them up to their floor, Suzumi thoughts flew aimlessly on where they would go next.

Before those four-eyed monsters made their assault on Ferris Fields, he thought he already had his whole life planned out. If he had completed the colonial militia's minimum twelve-month service, he would've saved up just enough money for him to attend the universities back home on Earth, so he could finally materialize his childhood dream of becoming a doctor at a prestigious hospital. But now, those plans were just draining down the shitter, and he couldn't help but feel a little lost. And there was nothing he could do about it.

His future, the one where he was preparing for most of his life, was just gone; all because an unknown alien race decided to fuck with them for no apparent reason. The doctorate, the house on the hill, the beautiful wife and kids, those dreams were gone now. And he had to accept that. Which he knew was easier said than done, and just thinking about all of his newfound hopelessness suddenly made him melancholic.

"Rye," He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turning his head, he saw Walters looking at him with a concerned look. "you okay?"

"I'm fine." Suzumi lied, trying to assure the former major with a fake smile. But the major wasn't a fool, and he could see through his hastily built façade clearly.

"No, you're not. What's on your mind?"

The Japanese-born militiaman was at a loss on what to tell the guy. Was he going to tell him the truth? About how utterly hopeless their situation was? Or was he going to lie, even when Walters could really see how troubled he was. In the end, it didn't really matter what he thought anymore.

"What're we going to do now, Walt?" He asked the XO softly. "Ferris Fields is gone, everyone we know is gone, I mean, what's the point?" Walters averted his gaze; he could tell that he was thinking about what he said real hard. A few moments later, he looked back at him, a slight, genuine smile on his face.

"Honestly? I sure as hell don't know, but I bet the Colonel does."

"Do you seriously believe in that?" Suzumi asked one more time. "No BS or anything."

"Yep. I really do." The former corporal was surprised on how fast the man answered that question, and the sincerity of his words helped alleviate most of his sour, melancholic mood. And who knows, maybe Walters was right, the Colonel probably did have a plan for all of them. When the odds were stacked against him during that batarian invasion attempt two years ago, he somehow managed to find a way to turn the tide, and win. If he could do it once, perhaps he could do it again. And with that, he could feel all of his remaining fears and insecurities melt away in an instant, replaced by something he thought was never going to come to them again: hope.

He could feel the elevator stop moving, and after hearing a quick ding, the doors ahead of him opened. As they slowly exited the lift one by one, Suzumi couldn't help but smile.

Well, at least I'm not going through this mess alone.

Don't forget to tell me what you think. Thanks again.

-Rookie 571