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Dear Fluixon,
My hands are shaking badly as I write this letter. It’s not out of fear anymore, I don’t think. I’ve been on the run, just as you asked of me before…well, yeah. I don’t even know why I’m writing this letter, since you’ll never receive it, but it’s like I can’t quite comprehend that you’re gone, yet. At least pretending keeps me sane.
This past day has been absolute hell. I’d say I hate you a little for putting me through this, but we both know that’d be a lie. I spent a few hours back at our underwater base near the shores of Luminara, but it didn’t feel right. It was too empty, and as much as I’d rather not admit my cowardice, I couldn’t pass the night there. So, instead, I’m now at one of the smaller hideouts we made on a whim. I never thought they’d be used before, but everything changed so fast, didn’t it?
I don’t have that much food left, maybe enough to last a week at most if I ration properly, which means I’ll have to sneak out again sometime soon. I miss you, Flux. And everyone else, of course. I miss the Conspiracy, but I can hold out alone.
– Thomas
Dear Fluixon,
I went out today. It’s only been two days since my last letter, but staying cooped up in that hideout is more draining than I imagined. Naturally, there were people after me, but it seems that they’re still mostly too focused on the aftermath of what had happened to search for me extensively. No matter the cause, though, it just works out better for me.
I managed to secure a bag of golden apples, through less than conventional means, not that you’d care about the methods. You probably expected this, actually. I’ve always been quite the survivalist, or something.
– Thomas
Dear Fluixon,
I think I figured out why my hands have been so unsteady these past few days. I’m not sure how I’ve missed it for this long, and I have been rather distracted lately, but I think I’ve fallen ill. The base grows concerningly cold at night, though it’s nothing I can’t handle. We’ve all been through worse, and I should already be accustomed to the winter weather by now.
Thinking of winter always brings back memories of Aculon. And, of course, you.
We’ve been by each other’s sides for so long now that life feels strangely vacant without you. I will survive, regardless. What kind of partner would I be if I couldn’t even fulfill your last command?
– Thomas
(The next letter is messy, clearly scribbled down in a hurry.)
Flux,
I fucked up. I messed up so very badly. I made the mistake of visiting your grave, but I think we both knew it was inevitable.
I think you’d be happy to know that your resting spot is by Saparata’s home, and that he built it himself with loving hands. I could’ve done the same. I must’ve overstayed my welcome, not that I was granted one at all, because Saps was walking by and saw me. He just has the worst timing, but funnily enough, he didn’t do anything. He just stood there, wide eyed and still, like he had seen some kind of ghost. Of course, I knew better than to take relief in his lack of response.
I won’t apologize for mocking him before I ran, even though I know you’d want me to. I’m not sorry. He has your blood on his hands. I can’t forgive him.
I can’t forgive you.
I’m just tired from all the running. I really need some rest.
Yours,
Thomas
Dear Fluixon,
I saw you today, so I must be losing it.
– Thomas
Dear Fluixon,
My hair has grown out a considerable amount. I’m pretty certain I could walk out undisguised and still not be recognized, but obviously it’s a theory I don’t intend to test. I might need to go for another supply run next week.
I don’t know how long I can live like this.
– Thomas
Fluixon,
Pandora is empty without you, the cold is fucking unbearable, and I miss you so much.
Yours,
Thomas
Dear Flux,
On a brighter note, I’ve recovered from my illness. The island is beautiful in winter, with snow coating the buildings and ground. You would’ve loved it here.
It’s what we worked towards. What you died to achieve.
Yours,
Thomas
Dear Fluixon,
I’m sorry. I know I swore to you that I’d run, that I’d escape and survive, but I can’t. I really can’t. I’m sure you knew what you were asking of me. For that, Fluixon, you’re cruel. You knew that I couldn’t deny you, not when you pleaded that way. You did this all so you could selfishly walk unhindered to the death you thought you deserved.
Even now, I find that I can’t fully blame you. I’ve never hated my love for you, but Flux, this life alone is pushing me awfully close.
This will be my final letter. I’m going to turn myself in to Saps at first light tomorrow. Hopefully death will be more merciful than the cycle you’ve forced onto me. After all, it is where you are.
Yours,
Thomas5200
~
Thomas’s solitude in his cell as he awaited execution was interrupted one day by none other than Saps himself.
He handed him a worn, folded piece of paper as he explained simply, “They found this in what was left of Infernus. He would’ve wanted it to make it to you.”
Thomas didn’t need to read the signed name to know who it was from.
~
My dearest Thomas,
You’re already aware (or perhaps you’ve always known) that I never intended to live past this war. No amount of convincing could’ve swayed me, and saying anything otherwise now just be unnecessarily callous. Normally that wouldn’t deter me, but I’ve been less than fair to you in my recent decisions. I’m sorry, but it’s the right course of action.
There’s a certain poetic sentiment in dying to the person, of whom, you’ve damaged the most, isn’t there? That isn’t any excuse by any means, but it is something I’ve come to appreciate. Under any other circumstances, it’s a feeling I’m sure you’d share.
I’m writing this as you sleep beside me, and it’s making it no less easy, Thomas. I find myself missing you already, even though I have yet to leave.
You can curse me later, if you wish. You’ll be driven to, and it’ll ease the burden you’ll undoubtedly place upon yourself. I don’t mind being tarnished in your memory. It’ll be the least I deserve from you. I owe you a thousand apologies, none of which I can express in this life, but maybe in another. Maybe elsewhere, if you believe the flow of time works in this way, we could’ve had that peaceful life you dreamed of.
No, that’s not right. It wasn’t just you. It was my dream too.
I love you, Thomas, with all of my heart. It pains me that I only expressed it now, and the regret in doing so is a lesson I’ll only learn once and can’t change. I can only hope that, in another lifetime, our fate is kinder to us, and that at the end of this one you’ll finally experience the peace we strived for. It’s the only thing I can give you in return.
Until we meet again, I’ll be waiting for the day you can tell me about the beauty of Pandora when the land is quiet and lacking in the violence that was the root of our ambition.
Yours, always,
Fluixon