"Remember Me" - one character trying to get another to remember them
Coffins, caskets, bins—whatever Tyrans called them, the sight of one made Bernie's chest tight. Fourteen years ago, she would have given anything to have the resources to bury the dead; it was better this way. There was ceremony, there was closure.
But it didn't make it any less painful when Death snatched a loved one.
The news had broke earlier yesterday morning. Sergeant Damon Baird, better known for his heroic efforts during the Locust War, had succumb to his battle with post-traumatic stress disorder. He was found in his New Tollen apartment by his close friend and warmate, Corporal Augustus Cole.
She hadn't missed a beat. She immediately packed her bags, forced Vic to pack more than a clean shirt and razor, and hauled her ass halfway across the globe to be there for her boys. Now she sat beside Cole in the spacious church, clutching a handkerchief as she tried to look anywhere except at the body. Baird had just barely reached fifty. He can't be gone. Yet there was the evidence.
After the service and the burial, after the handful of unknown faces departed, Delta Squad stood together in the cemetery for the first time in eight years. Bernie barely recognized Marcus if not for the blue eyes; his hair was turning white and he'd lost some muscle mass, but he was still the unmovable Marcus Fenix. He and Anya had adopted a baby boy and girl, which Bernie would have found sweet in another circumstance.
Cole was still The Cole Train, but today he was subdued. He mentioned founding a new Thrashball league but otherwise remained quiet. Bernie didn't like to see him this way. She wanted her good-natured Cole back, the one that assured her it was okay to be scared and vulnerable because she had great friends.
"Remember on Vectes when Baird used that shitty Hammer of Dawn relay to blow up a lambent leviathan?" she asked, her voice cracking on his name. "Damn idiot nearly took out half the island."
Cole, looking a little sick, laughed weakly. "And then he blew up Sovereign with some stroke of genius."
"The time he dropped his pants in front of Sam, Anya, and Alex."
"When he pulled us out of the shit thanks to his handy-man skills."
"When he was stuck in a Locust POW pod," Marcus offered. "Things were definitely quieter then."
"Things'll be quiet now," Cole replied, voice wavering. "I got so used to his jabbering, I never noticed how empty a silence could be until we got separate apartments. We've been together since the beginning, man. I saved his ass and he gave me a new life—all I really knew was Thrashball, but he helped me find my place in the world. He taught me things I never even dreamed of and now—damn it." He wiped his eyes and Bernie touched his arm. He immediately wrapped her in a bone crunching hug she was so familiar with, but this was different. This wasn't relief and friendship; this was desolation, loss.
Cole didn't try to restrain it. He sobbed openly on Bernie's shoulder and she did her best to comfort him. She let him cry it, rubbing his back and answering every desperate "He was my brother; he was my best friend" with soft noises. She had never seen this side of Cole and it made her heart ache as she cried with him.
The bonds forged through steel and blood were most certainly stronger than any other relationship. It was more than trust or empathy; they became part of you, strengthened you, and losing one friend was if losing half your heart.
Watching Marcus stubbornly swipe at his eyes, Bernie feared for the day they'd lose another family member, even if she went next. But for now, she was alive. She could remember the man she was proud to call her son and help the men and women she'd come to love so easily heal.