OOM - First night in Milliways.
Jan. 18th, 2017 06:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
imthepilotThe room he’d been given a key to was small and simple. The sort of anonymous bunkhouse he was use to. But with only one bed, a gear locker (not that he had anything to store) and a fresher with both sonic and water settings.
His memories were still scattered, broken, out of order.
He remembered some things. Letting two sneak onto a ship, years ago. A man named Galen Erso who makes his heart ache. A battle on a beach. Kissing someone in the rain. The smell of spilt fuel and the terrifying rush of fire.
He looked at himself in the long mirror. The flightsuit was torn and shredded and probably beyond hope. Even if the fresher cleaned it, it was barely holding together.
He touched to cog patches on the shoulders. They had meaning to him, even now.
He remembered that he defected.
That it had been for Galen.
And that there had been a reason he kept them, even after they no-longer had hold of him.
After he no-longer had Galen.
Another memory - being told to get clean. That he would need to look the way he use to. Like an imperial. Like he was before.
Before Galen.
A different fresher. A different world.
Something about the memory, still fragmented, made him look at himself as he stripped off. His back, what he could see of it, was patched with burns. No longer fresh or painful but still healing.
He touched the worst of them – a large burn that covered his left hip.
Memory rushed at him – rain, sharp stones. Running, falling, sliding down a mountainside.
Crashed ships. Injured crews. Trying to pull people free of the wrecks.
The smell of fuel. Panic.
Holding someone down, covering them as fire engulfed them both.
Pain. His skin, his lungs. Everything burning.
The someone holding his hand and calling his name.
Galen.
Bodhi huddled in the corner of the fresher and wept.
He couldn’t remember how they met, if the feeling that filled his heart was shared, what they did together.
But he knew he had loved Galen Erso. Enough to protect him from the fire.
But he couldn’t remember how they met
In the darkness of his broken memories, he could hear Galen calling his name. He wanted to call back. Wanted to reach for Galen’s hand.
But he was here.
He was broke.
He was lost.
He was alone.
It seemed hours before he could drag himself out of the fresher and into the bed. The bed was soft and the blankets warm. Exhausted and feeling empty, Bodhi stared into the darkness until it consumed him.
Death should be dark.
Death should be quiet.
Why wasn’t death peaceful?
Perhaps he hadn’t deserved peace? Hadn’t earnt it.
~~~~
There was no knowing how long passed before other memories woke in his sleeping mind, filling him with fear and panic. A beach, a radio connection, blaster fire cutting the air around him.
A final moment of elation – a small victory. A small action that would trigger greater ones.
Plans, hope. He could save the others, he could do right by them.
For Galen.
And then the sound, something rattling across the deck plates. The brief glimpse of a detonator.
And then nothing but white.
He was dead. The ship, all hope of reaching the others, of getting out alive.
All dead.
He was dead.
And alone.
And broken.
In the darkness, Bodhi curled in on himself and screamed. And screamed. Until there was nothing left inside himself but the dark.
His memories were still scattered, broken, out of order.
He remembered some things. Letting two sneak onto a ship, years ago. A man named Galen Erso who makes his heart ache. A battle on a beach. Kissing someone in the rain. The smell of spilt fuel and the terrifying rush of fire.
He looked at himself in the long mirror. The flightsuit was torn and shredded and probably beyond hope. Even if the fresher cleaned it, it was barely holding together.
He touched to cog patches on the shoulders. They had meaning to him, even now.
He remembered that he defected.
That it had been for Galen.
And that there had been a reason he kept them, even after they no-longer had hold of him.
After he no-longer had Galen.
Another memory - being told to get clean. That he would need to look the way he use to. Like an imperial. Like he was before.
Before Galen.
A different fresher. A different world.
Something about the memory, still fragmented, made him look at himself as he stripped off. His back, what he could see of it, was patched with burns. No longer fresh or painful but still healing.
He touched the worst of them – a large burn that covered his left hip.
Memory rushed at him – rain, sharp stones. Running, falling, sliding down a mountainside.
Crashed ships. Injured crews. Trying to pull people free of the wrecks.
The smell of fuel. Panic.
Holding someone down, covering them as fire engulfed them both.
Pain. His skin, his lungs. Everything burning.
The someone holding his hand and calling his name.
Galen.
Bodhi huddled in the corner of the fresher and wept.
He couldn’t remember how they met, if the feeling that filled his heart was shared, what they did together.
But he knew he had loved Galen Erso. Enough to protect him from the fire.
But he couldn’t remember how they met
In the darkness of his broken memories, he could hear Galen calling his name. He wanted to call back. Wanted to reach for Galen’s hand.
But he was here.
He was broke.
He was lost.
He was alone.
It seemed hours before he could drag himself out of the fresher and into the bed. The bed was soft and the blankets warm. Exhausted and feeling empty, Bodhi stared into the darkness until it consumed him.
Death should be dark.
Death should be quiet.
Why wasn’t death peaceful?
Perhaps he hadn’t deserved peace? Hadn’t earnt it.
~~~~
There was no knowing how long passed before other memories woke in his sleeping mind, filling him with fear and panic. A beach, a radio connection, blaster fire cutting the air around him.
A final moment of elation – a small victory. A small action that would trigger greater ones.
Plans, hope. He could save the others, he could do right by them.
For Galen.
And then the sound, something rattling across the deck plates. The brief glimpse of a detonator.
And then nothing but white.
He was dead. The ship, all hope of reaching the others, of getting out alive.
All dead.
He was dead.
And alone.
And broken.
In the darkness, Bodhi curled in on himself and screamed. And screamed. Until there was nothing left inside himself but the dark.
