Wave after wave of searing agony crashed on the rocks of Kevin Hughs consciousness. Foamy white tentacles bit at the rocks of logical thought as a high spring tide of hatred and remorse rushed in.

His quarters were appropriately dark. A faint blue hue floated into the cramped quarters from the planet suspended outside the window. Gentle, relaxing rumbling from the massive ship's engines failed to soothe Kevin's battered nerves. He stood uncomfortably, bulky arms crossed over a gray-green jumpsuit. Light reflected off a pair of watery gray, tired eyes and an unshaved face. The look of a dead man stretched across his stressed features. Only the barely audible whisper of his breath existed as a sign of life.

Twenty-one hours. It had been twenty-one hours since that fateful and woefully quick instant. Twenty-one hours since his world got turned upside down. Like a crystal clear recording the moment flew forwards and backwards in his mind many times a minute flashing like a diamond beacon. The call for help, the terrifying scream and the silence. A silence only the realm of Hades knew: The silence of death.

An unseen source produced a calming chime. Kevin sighed deeply and closed his eyes. He flushed the images out of his mind, now focusing all available attention on the new task at hand. Gradually he eased towards the door, and brought his slightly shaky finger up to the blinking panel.

Hissing like a metallic serpent, the steel door was pulled back into the wall. Kevin's darkened quarters filled with blinding light from the large active hall. Sight and sound overwhelmed his exhausted senses. A lone man stood facing him, wearing disbelief on his face for this pathetic looking creature before him. Kevin rubbed his eyes and turned to head back into the darkness. The man sensing uneasy approval entered and shut the door behind him.

Eyes still adjusting, the foul smell of alcohol tortured John Riley's nose within the ransacked room. "Jesus, Kev," he started, "You've been drinking?"

"A little," Kevin replied in a quivering whisper. He collapsed onto a small chair, facing the window. The table in front of him bore an incomprehensible mess of clothing, pictures, papers, and liquor bottles. A mirror on the far wall reflected half a dozen instances of John in its shattered condition. Broken glass from picture frames lined the bases of the steel walls. John was filled with apprehension. He was uncertain how to proceed with the situation.

"Have you gotten any sleep?" John asked, unsure if he was starting to walk down the right path.

"No," Kevin said groggily, still staring like a zombie out the window. The blue light made the bags under his eyes appear as black bruises. His ruffled hair gave him the appearance of Medusa.

"Captain Stewart was wondering if you were okay..."

"Captain Stewart," Kevin scoffed weakly, then his voice broke a whisper to show contempt "Fuck him. If he cared one damn bit he'd be here himself. It's not like he's had someone that was practically family shot out from under him."

"Hey man, Stewart is pretty busy. If he could be here he would," John defended.

"Why does it even matter? We're at war, I should've expected to see her, you, anyone, or even me die," Kevin looked away from the window and towards John.

"This shit isn't normal Kevin, no one is expecting you to shrug this off..."

"Well intelligence sure shrugged her off, didn't they?" his voice rose, "They told us no Shivans were in the sector we were patrolling, they said the nearest enemy activity was twelve fucking light years away. She sure as hell got shrugged off when half the fucking Shivan armada appeared on top of us!"

John was taken aback by Kevin's growing anger. Irrational behavior regarding this situation was particularly dangerous when drunk. Kevin was a hardheaded, almost impulsive person.

John carefully sat down on the small bed under the window. He took a deep breath and brought his eyes up from the war zone of a floor to his friend's eyes.

"I..." he searched for the words, "I really am sorry, Kevin. I know I can't do much but listen, but I'll listen as long as you need me to."

Once again John found himself being ignored in favor of the window. Minutes passed with an uncomfortable lack of communication. Kevin shifted in his seat and propped his elbow on the chair to rest his head on.

"I just don't think this is way it should've happened..."

"It isn't the way it should happen for anyone, Kev..."

"I would've preferred that one of us be transferred and then we get to hear about the others' death over the mail...something different at least...not so personal."

He occasionally slurred a word; the alcohol was starting to take an even larger toll than in the past few hours. Kevin slouched back in the chair and continued to contemplate slowly and painfully. His green eyes shifted and he concentrated on pushing himself out of the chair. On his feet, Kevin shakily inched towards a small desk with another liquor bottle on it.

"Kevin? You've had enough..."

"I've hardly had any," he said slowly. John moved to pull Kevin back. No sooner than when he placed his heavy hand on the drunken shoulder the violent reaction came.

"Get your hands off of me!" Kevin boomed clumsily. He flailed a clenched fist through the air.

"God dammit, don't do this to yourself!" John shouted back.

"I'll do whatever the hell I want! You didn't loose anyone!" Kevin screamed almost incomprehensibly. He shoved John back, barely managing to keep balance himself. John lunged past the drunken man and took the last bottle and threw it across the room. The bottle crashed and sparkled with blue light from the planet outside. The steel of the wall moaned and rung briefly from the contact as the putrid liquid dripped down the wall.

"Just stop it! I've spent too much time helping and training you to watch you throw it away now, dammit!" John screamed furiously.

"Fuck you," Kevin wheezed, almost sobbing, "Fuck you! Get out of here! You don't know what she meant to me!"

"Yes I did!"

"What?"

"You think it wasn't obvious? The whole damn squad knew you two had a relationship. We just didn't say anything because we didn't want the higher-ups to get all pissed and end it for you two!"

"You...knew?"

John silenced himself, knowing he had said too much. Kevin was now swimming in a sea of embarrassment as well as agony. One of the greatest cardinal sins of the GTVA: having a relationship with someone in the same unit. During combat the last thing you need to worry about is your mate. The psychological impact of such a situation claimed the lives of countless pilots previously; a price the GTVA didn't like to pay.

"I..." Kevin struggled. His voice became heavy and clumsy. Tears darted from pore to pore on his tough unwashed face eventually losing their grip and falling into streaks on his dirty jump suit. Bottled emotions now broken free began to seep through him like water through a desert-scorched sponge. John stood and bit his lip. After so many years of being an unemotional person, the sudden role of counselor did not suit him particularly well.

"Back when we were doing all that fighting in Gamma Draconis and everything was looking so bad," Kevin almost sobbed, "...You know she was the only thing that got me up in the morning...In that whole god awful shitty mess with everyone dying around us, she was my will to live..."

"We all have our motivation," John said. He scolded himself mentally right after for not producing a more palatable response.

"You know when Roberts got killed last year?" John began again.

"Yeah..." Kevin squeaked.

"That was some pretty rough stuff for me. Roberts and I went all the way back to high school. The one thing that really kept my sanity when that happened was just focusing on the good memories."

Kevin massaged the tears off his cheeks briefly and sighed. The suggestion hadn't registered with his mind. Only the death of his beloved continued to haunt him.

"Hey, why don't you get cleaned up a bit and come with me down to the lounge. The whole squad is there," John offered, putting on his best salesman smile, "We can talk about the good times...Hell, I'll even buy you a few more drinks."

Kevin stared out the window, unresponsive. John's smile faded away. Feelings of uneasiness pierced his body like a razor sharp dagger.

"Alright...Just head on down," Kevin said between sniffles, trying to regain composure, "Just give me a few more minutes alone...I'll be there in a few minutes."

John hesitated but did not wish to add any pressure, "Alright," he said reluctantly. The large figure shifted towards the door and produced one last longing glance back at the broken man in the chair. Instinct knew better, but respect had a greater call. The door hissed open and bathed the pungent room in white light. Another metallic hiss and darkness was unchallenged once again.

Kevin dizzily lifted himself from the chair. Images and sounds still ricocheted in his mind. Now a new feeling came: A desire for rest. The tortured body ached for relief and the weary mind sought peace.

He slowly shuffled over to a short desk and bent down sliding the top-drawer open with a piercing shriek from the non-lubricated tracks. Now his mind stopped wallowing in sorrow as it observed the sight of a solution for its agony. Sleek shiny steel glowed in a sickly blue hue from the planet outside. It's many jagged edges and angles glistened and broadcast a message of release.

Kevin wrapped his hand around the steel L-shaped figure. He observed its details and feeling the cold electric surface of its handle. As the silvery object warmed with his body heat, he felt as though it were part of him. His heart beat sped and eyes widened. He moved once again to the window and drew his arm in an artistic path, guiding the end of the barrel carefully to his right temple.

Now his whole being sung out at once. It was time to rest. To release the sorrows of the mortal coil and finally be at true peace. Short sparks and shocks of old memories jolted through his mind. Futility was the life he was always condemned to. Futility that he had no power to change. Futility that was about to end.

The spherical shape of the blue planet smiled at him. His eyes fled through the field of stars and came upon his own reflection. He studied it briefly, without thought or emotion. The trigger of the gun started to compress under the increasing pressure from his finger when something new came into focus next to his reflection.

Her face appeared next to his. Smiling radiantly like the distant stars. For the first time in many years he felt at peace as the gun flashed and jerked away from his hand, and a single round casing dropped the floor. The steel casing bounced and rolled, from it came a faint trail of smoke as it cooled. Tossing and turning on the cluttered floor, the casing came to a rest on top of the shattered photo of the couple that once was.