Most sections of Terra Group's lunar base lay in darkness. Only in the control centre was there light. That light was dim, matching the mood of the solitary figure in the station's command chair. Her legs were drawn up, her arms hugging them to her chest. The eyes in her tear-streaked face were unfocused, unseeing, gazing well beyond the console in front of her. Mourning alone is never easy. How much worse, then, to suffer guilt and remorse and regret as well?
*I should have saved him*
*should have known*
*if I'd been quicker*
*if I'd thought to practice*
*it's my fault*
*I should have done something*
*found a better way*
*taken him up*
*my fault*
*saved him, should have saved him*
*he's dead!*
*you killed him*
*killed him*
*killed him*
*I tried*
*God, I tried, I tried*
*should have saved him*
*COULD have saved him*
*how?*
*been quicker*
*practiced*
*seen a better way*
*they shot him*
*my fault*
*now he's dead*
*they killed him, not you*
*NO! could have saved him*
*could have saved him*
Spiralling in on each other, Kristy's thoughts twisted and turned, bitter self-recrimination overwhelming that small part of her mind trying to tell her she'd done everything she could. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks as she hugged her knees, mourning her friend's death. Desperately trying to cope with her own role in it. When Alison died, it had hurt terribly. This time, she felt the burden of guilt as well.
*thought it was a game*
*safe on Luna*
*no danger to you*
*all fun and games*
*that's not fair!*
*sweetness and light*
*that's not how it was!*
*could have practiced*
*but no! stargazer, dreamer, failure!*
*he trusted you*
*you failed him*
*could have saved him*
*how could it happen?*
*you let it happen*
*I tried, I tried, oh God*
*could have done better*
*how could I?*
*too late now*
*gone, gone forever*
*not coming back*
*never coming back*
*no more sacrifice*
*dies a hero, but you*
*could have saved him*
*let him die*
Spiralling down, down into darkness and despair. She'd had plenty of time to get back up to speed on this equipment. But she hadn't. She thought she had, but she hadn't been fast enough. Not quick enough to save Josh. And now he was dead. It was her fault. She could have saved him. Her mind had locked onto that thought and wasn't letting it go. That one tiny, beseiged part of her psyche struggled desperately to keep its grip on the grief that threatened to engulf her, to take her down into an endless mire of guilt and remorse. Finally, it fled, seeking refuge in an eternal bastion of hope and love.
*I will lift up my eyes unto the heavens*
*could have saved him*
*from whence comes my help*
*saved him*
*My help comes from the Lord*
*could have*
*who made Heaven and Earth*
With one unsteady hand, Kristy reached into her pocket for the bronzed Saint Michael medal she always carried with her. It felt warm from being close to her body, as she turned it over: one side with a likeness of the archangel framed by the words "archangel michael"; the other a fiery cross, and "sanctus michael ora pro nobis." A large tear hit the medal as her vision blurred again. The name Michael meant "Who is like God."
*Saint Michael*
*defend us in our daily battle*
*so that we may not perish*
*in the last judgement*
The spiralling thoughts slowed, stopped. Kristy focused on the prayer, contemplating each word, each phrase, lingering on them, her troubled mind seeking solace in their simple formula, their ritual, the greater good they represented. Closing her fist about the cherished medallion, she again wrapped her arms about her legs, still sorely missing the comforting presence of her friends.
*Saint Michael*
*Archangel*
*defend us in battle*
The darkness, the terrible guilt still burdened her, but it was no longer quite so overwhelming. Her tense muscles began to relax, and she leaned her head against the high back of her chair.
*Be our defense*
*against the wickedness and snares*
*of the devil*
Tears continued to trickle down her face. While she had managed to at least partially set aside the remorse and regret that threatened to consume her, she still felt a terrible aching emptiness.
*May God rebuke him*
*we humbly pray*
Her eyes slid closed, as she clasped her legs even more tightly to her chest. A few wisps of hair drifted free of her braid, gently brushing her cheek.
*And you*
*Prince of the heavenly host*
*by the power of God*
A trace of a smile touched Kristy's lips. Happy memories of times in Mendellia replaced, for the moment, the terrible events of recent hours.
*thrust into Hell Satan*
*and the other evil spirits*
*who prowl the world*
*for the ruin of souls*
Kristy's breathing was smooth, even. The grip of her arms on her knees relaxed, and she settled more comfortably into the padded arms of the chair. Physically exhausted, emotionally drained, she had fallen asleep.