[Mother takes her by the shoulder and guides her downstairs. Rain leaks from saturated insulation as they make the final few turns into the BoO proper, past Kandel (she nods to Mother in a way that seems to say I'm sorry) and Faye (a whispered word or two to Mother, a touch on the shoulder and a keep your head up, Agent to Parker).
Few others approach. Few others seem to be able to help. Each of them is adrift in their own grief, trying and failing to keep their spirits buoyed. Two cops shoot the shit from across a water cooler, eyes unfocused on the cups in their hand.
Losing Wolfpack - four Delta shooters in one day - hurt. They were good assets, damn good men. But they had kept to themselves for the most part, hadn't really socialized with the civilians in the BoO. Major Blaber was too much the professional for that.
Rabbit was different. Everyone knew Rabbit, and Rabbit knew everyone by name. At six in the morning he could be teaching some of the baristas how to make Navy coffee. A few hours later he'd be entertaining a gaggle of kids not much older than his own with an array of card tricks. He made his rounds around the BoO almost out of habit, checking in on everyone, effortlessly keeping their spirits buoyed with his quick smile and wit.
It almost made you forget how much of a fighter he was when the rounds started flying. There'd never been so much a shake in his grip as he lined up shot after shot, making on-the-fly ballistic calculations look easy.
It had all counted until it didn't, until he laid cold and motionless on the medbay table.
Mother circles Lindi around to the lobby, where a candlelight vigil is starting to take shape. Some people have brought pictures to pin to a memorial wall. Others watch videos. Voodoo and Preacher meet Mother halfway, and he nods.]
We all here?
[Voodoo nods, wipes his mouth, averts his eyes.] Yeah. What's left of us.
[He winces slightly, catching himself.] Sorry. Just on edge.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2019-06-11 07:04 am (UTC)Few others approach. Few others seem to be able to help. Each of them is adrift in their own grief, trying and failing to keep their spirits buoyed. Two cops shoot the shit from across a water cooler, eyes unfocused on the cups in their hand.
Losing Wolfpack - four Delta shooters in one day - hurt. They were good assets, damn good men. But they had kept to themselves for the most part, hadn't really socialized with the civilians in the BoO. Major Blaber was too much the professional for that.
Rabbit was different. Everyone knew Rabbit, and Rabbit knew everyone by name. At six in the morning he could be teaching some of the baristas how to make Navy coffee. A few hours later he'd be entertaining a gaggle of kids not much older than his own with an array of card tricks. He made his rounds around the BoO almost out of habit, checking in on everyone, effortlessly keeping their spirits buoyed with his quick smile and wit.
It almost made you forget how much of a fighter he was when the rounds started flying. There'd never been so much a shake in his grip as he lined up shot after shot, making on-the-fly ballistic calculations look easy.
It had all counted until it didn't, until he laid cold and motionless on the medbay table.
Mother circles Lindi around to the lobby, where a candlelight vigil is starting to take shape. Some people have brought pictures to pin to a memorial wall. Others watch videos. Voodoo and Preacher meet Mother halfway, and he nods.]
We all here?
[Voodoo nods, wipes his mouth, averts his eyes.] Yeah. What's left of us.
[He winces slightly, catching himself.] Sorry. Just on edge.