For daemonmuses - Jamie
Gordon wasn't my first love.
He was my first kiss. He was my first lover. He was the first person other than my parents to tell me he loved me, and the first person I said it back to. But he wasn't my first love.
My first love was Jamie.
I was fourteen when I met him. I'd been an official part of the Resistance for a little over a year at that point. He was sixteen going on seventeen, just starting out. Well, he was trying to start out; that was the problem. Everyone was trying their damnedest to discourage him from joining up. Everyone except me.
See, Jamie was deaf. He could read lips pretty well, and his daemon could hear just fine, but that didn't change the fact that in combat, a hearing-impaired person would be a liability, not an asset. Everyone knows that. I was fourteen, and I knew that. But I found myself defending Jamie's right to join the Resistance. After all, everyone, right up to my own father, had tried to discourage me from joining the Resistance, but I did it anyway. How could I not stand up for him?
It took a lot of persuasion, helped out by a bit of physical intimidation from Kei, but by the end of it all, Jamie was in the Resistance. Not on the front lines, of course, that was out of the question. But he took up a lookout position, and you know what? He was really damn good at it. He could just sit in one spot for hours, his lemur daemon on his shoulders watching his back. Whenever she heard anything, she would tap his head at just the right spot to get him to look at the source of the sound. It was kind of neat just to watch him, really.
We talked a lot when he wasn't on shift--about our families, our lives before the War, whoever was being annoying on site that day. Well, I talked to him, and Aisling--his daemon--would translate his sign language for me. After about a month and a half, I said I wanted to learn ASL, so he started teaching me. I had the alphabet nailed down after about a week; actual words were trickier. ASL has its own grammar, there's a lot less room for elaboration or poetic description. Kind of the opposite of how the Vortigaunts speak, when you think about it.
I still remember the first time I said a full sentence to him in ASL. I was bringing him a sandwich while he was on early morning scout duty, so I signed "Jamie, I brought you breakfast." His whole face lit up with his smile. He always had the sweetest smile...
Two days later, he was gone. Overwatch found the base and attacked in full force. Jamie spotted them first and warned us in time to escape, but...
...on the way out, we got scoped by a sniper on a high ridge. Jamie saw it, pushed me out of the way, and...
...and that was it.
I'd known him for four months. He was my first love. I didn't think of him in those terms until years later, but he was. If he hadn't died that day... I don't know. You can't dwell on what might have been, that way lies madness. He's just another memory, now. Just another one of my ghosts.
He was my first kiss. He was my first lover. He was the first person other than my parents to tell me he loved me, and the first person I said it back to. But he wasn't my first love.
My first love was Jamie.
I was fourteen when I met him. I'd been an official part of the Resistance for a little over a year at that point. He was sixteen going on seventeen, just starting out. Well, he was trying to start out; that was the problem. Everyone was trying their damnedest to discourage him from joining up. Everyone except me.
See, Jamie was deaf. He could read lips pretty well, and his daemon could hear just fine, but that didn't change the fact that in combat, a hearing-impaired person would be a liability, not an asset. Everyone knows that. I was fourteen, and I knew that. But I found myself defending Jamie's right to join the Resistance. After all, everyone, right up to my own father, had tried to discourage me from joining the Resistance, but I did it anyway. How could I not stand up for him?
It took a lot of persuasion, helped out by a bit of physical intimidation from Kei, but by the end of it all, Jamie was in the Resistance. Not on the front lines, of course, that was out of the question. But he took up a lookout position, and you know what? He was really damn good at it. He could just sit in one spot for hours, his lemur daemon on his shoulders watching his back. Whenever she heard anything, she would tap his head at just the right spot to get him to look at the source of the sound. It was kind of neat just to watch him, really.
We talked a lot when he wasn't on shift--about our families, our lives before the War, whoever was being annoying on site that day. Well, I talked to him, and Aisling--his daemon--would translate his sign language for me. After about a month and a half, I said I wanted to learn ASL, so he started teaching me. I had the alphabet nailed down after about a week; actual words were trickier. ASL has its own grammar, there's a lot less room for elaboration or poetic description. Kind of the opposite of how the Vortigaunts speak, when you think about it.
I still remember the first time I said a full sentence to him in ASL. I was bringing him a sandwich while he was on early morning scout duty, so I signed "Jamie, I brought you breakfast." His whole face lit up with his smile. He always had the sweetest smile...
Two days later, he was gone. Overwatch found the base and attacked in full force. Jamie spotted them first and warned us in time to escape, but...
...on the way out, we got scoped by a sniper on a high ridge. Jamie saw it, pushed me out of the way, and...
...and that was it.
I'd known him for four months. He was my first love. I didn't think of him in those terms until years later, but he was. If he hadn't died that day... I don't know. You can't dwell on what might have been, that way lies madness. He's just another memory, now. Just another one of my ghosts.