First there were six. There was me. There was Miguel, our commander, who I wasn’t exactly friendly with. And Rusty, someone who I’d barely known. There was Nicol, a coward in my eyes. And Dearka, an asshole, but my best friend. Then there was you. I wasn’t sure what to think of you. So I didn’t think of you at all.

Then there were five. Me still. And Miguel. But Rusty was dead. Nicol was still a coward, and Dearka still an asshole. You were still a puzzle. I still didn’t think of you. But I remember the pain of knowing one of our own had died at the hands of some slimy Natural. I wondered how you took it, and then scolded myself for wondering at all.

Then there were four. Me of course. But not Miguel or Rusty. Miguel was killed off by that same damned Natural. Nicol was cowardly, and didn’t want revenge. Dearka was an asshole, and he brushed it all off. You still weren’t showing anything that I could use to read you, and it only frustrated me more.

Then there were three. I was still alive. But not Miguel, or Rusty. Or Nicol. Nicol, cowardly Nicol, had shown the most courage out of us all by protecting you. Dearka wasn’t an asshole, for once. He kept us from fighting. He pointed us at our goals. I began to realize, we had things in common. We both wanted revenge. But no, no, thinking of you was not something I should do. All it did was annoy me.

Then there were two. Me. And you. Dearka was gone; I didn’t know if he was alive or dead. I missed him; wasn’t sure why, or how, but he’d matured before he’d gone. Thinking of you was inevitable, it seemed. You were the only one left, with calm words, and a hidden sadness in your eyes, which I liked to think was for Dearka and Nicol.

I didn’t like to think of you, so I thought of them instead. Had Nicol known that I hadn’t meant it? Had Dearka known that I didn’t think he was such a bastard after all? It didn’t matter, did it? They were dead. Thinking of you wasn’t such a sin anymore.

Then there was one. Me. You were gone, but you were alive and that was enough for now. If I’d been confused about missing Dearka, I was lost when it came to missing you. You and your icy mask, you and your accomplishments, you and your skills that far outmatched mine. You and your smugness, you and your pacifist nature, and when did I learn all of this about you? Somewhere along the line, I lost control of my thoughts. You dominated them. But when I heard that you had let Lacus Clyne, traitor, escape, my world came crashing down. And I thought of you no longer.

Then there was none. No one. You were gone, Dearka was gone, Nicol and Miguel and Rusty were gone. But I was gone too. Because I didn’t know what to believe in anymore; my best friends, or my country and people? Who was right and who was wrong? Had I crossed the line, when was the line drawn and wasn’t it meant to be crossed? I felt lost inside, and outside I was numbly following orders. Dearka was alive. You were alive.

The only one dead was me.