1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 | He was gone. The note he left was still in her hand; she hadn't let it go ever since she first picked it up and read it. It was silly, to be so affected by someone's departure, especially when they had both been aware of the fact that it would probably happen one day. One day, but not right away. But what was there to do? Mourn? Mourning would only render her useless, as it had done when The Department fell apart and she found herself without duty. No, Graham wouldn't want her to mourn either. It would be pitiful and it would be disrespectful to a comrade who had been given the chance to fulfill his original purpose, now. She had to be proud of him. And, the note did say to simply wait. Sooner or later, he would return to this place, and it wasn't as if she had any chance of escaping, so no matter how many years it would take for him to be sent back here, she would always be here. But what if he never returned? What if he did nothing to deserve this place again? And then, they would never meet again? If that were to happen, wouldn't it be a reason to be proud, too? To know that this person had been brave, honorable and decent enough not to land in this hellhole? It would mean living a fulfilled life and then moving on to wherever one was meant to go when they died. It would mean that he had escaped the hell that she had been put in. ...But then why did she wish for him to return, as soon as possible? The paper was soft and crumpled up in her hand. She had read it too many times in the past hours, staring at the words, wondering at them. He said to wait. Would he promise something he couldn't keep? He would, wouldn't he? In order to not worry anyone, in order to... Humans were like that, weren't they? Promising safety when they couldn't guarantee it. Promising--but wouldn't that make him a liar? And wouldn't being a liar make him a sinner? And being a sinner, he would return and... She stopped herself. This wasn't like her. Her thoughts, they weren't going in the right direction anymore. But then when had they ever, when they concerned him? She opened her palm and looked at the note again. In the end, that was all she could do. And the words, at least, would always be there. When she went to bed that night, she straightened the paper out and put it under her pillow, safely tucked away as she closed her eyes. |
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