Desert Vow

The memorial service was small. The few marines and pilots left at RF-1, gathering as much of the bodies as they could. If the bodies couldn't be found, caskets were still used. All closed, of course. Jackson and I had dressed in our dress uniforms, despite the heat of the desert. It was the least we could do for our fallen friends and comrades.

The marines had acted as pall bearers, walking each casket down the makeshift aisle slowly, as we saluted each and every one. But Liz and Lucas' caskets were the hardest when they walked by. Had to remember to keep the salute, to not show any emotion, not just yet.

Not until everything had broken. When each person could approach the caskets. Pilots, marines, technicians, all said goodbye to their friends. But I just stayed near the two caskets of my wingmates. All I could think of was that Blue Monster of a mobile suit. What it did to them, and how brutal it was in combat. And how I would have to face it again, when I encountered it once more.

But I wasn't the only one having problems with it. Jackson had approached Liz's casket, his head bowed. I could see him holding back the tears. His fists were clenching, and he was holding back in front of everyone.

And then I saw why. A small black box, placed on top of her casket. He had opened it and left it there. He was robbed of something he truly wanted, robbed of a life that should have been theirs.

I approached, but he waved me off. He didn't want to be comforted, didn't want to be spoken with.

I left him, we all did. So he could mourn. He deserved it, because he lost his Liz.