hey grace <3 how about #19 for Morale, from the angsty convo prompts?
LEO!!! <3
Are you sure? 19? That could be too much angst. But, so says you! :)
19. "I can't even get out of bed in the morning."
From this ask game.
Warnings: character death, slight suicidal ideation (it feels pretty blink and you'll miss it to me, but just to be safe), Morale's not-so-great mental state (similar to depression, I guess, but if someone's got a better word for it, please let me know)
Morale sighed happily as he laid back on his towel atop the sand, warm sunshine shining down upon him allowing him to doze of a bit. He could hear Throwpillow in the distance, playing some game with other vode that had once been in the Guard. He could hear water splashing and knew that Ghost was swimming. He could feel Sketch's presence close by as his older batchmate sat under an umbrella, drawing to his hearts content.
They had always talked, in the dark and quiet of night, about getting to do something fun when - if - the war ever ended, and they were finally getting the chance to.
He only wished Duke and Trick could have gotten to experience it with them.
Morale jolted up from his dozing when he heard multiple vode screaming from the direction of where Throwpillow had been. He ran over, Sketch right beside him. Looking around, Morale's heart stopped when he saw Throwpillow laying on the ground, blood quickly leaving his mouth.
He and Sketch knelt beside. "Pillow, what's wrong?" Morale asked, frantic as he gently moved his brother so he was laying on his side.
Pillow tried to speak, but he only managed to choke on his own blood. Morale kept a hand on him, trying to comfort him.
Before he had the chance to yell at Sketch to go and get an actual medic - where did all of the other vode go? - Sketch yelled first.
"GHOST!" his oldest squadmate shouted at the top of his lungs, running towards the water.
Morale turned in the direction of the water, only to see Ghost getting pulled away from the sandy shore and having trouble staying above the water.
He watched in horror as Sketch was unable to help, quickly succumbing to the waves with Ghost. Trying not to panic, Morale looked between them and Throwpillow, who was no longer choking and seemed to be breathing steadily.
Decision made, Morale rushed to the water. He pushed away the brief confusion he felt - Why were they having trouble swimming? They had grown up on Kamino. Where had the waves come from? - and tried to make his way to his brothers.
Morale managed to grab onto Ghost's arm and began to pull him back to shore. He didn't make any distance before Ghost yanked Morale backwards, pulling the youngest into his arms and holding on tight.
"Where are you going, Mor'ika?" Ghost asked and Morale froze. Ghost's voice sounded dead.
He turned to stare at his brother, not noticing the water around them calming down. A hand pressed down on his head and Morale looked at Sketch. "You should stay here with us, Morale."
When he tried to struggle out of Ghost tight, cold grip, another pair of arms wrapped around him. "It's so much better here, Mor'ika," he heard Thorwpillow rasp. "It's so much better here."
Then, the arms around him yanked him down.
Morale fought as hard as he could to stay above the water, kicking at whatever part of his not-brothers he could reach. He barely comprehended yelling for help or the splashing water.
He just barely heard the shout of, "Morale!"
A scream tore its way from his throat when the arms around him tightened so much that Morale felt like he was having the life squeezed out of him. "Morale, wake up!"
He was pulled beneath the surface of the freezing cold water. "Morale!"
Morale shot up from his bunk, narrowly missing hitting his head on the bunk he was sleeping under - Sketch's bunk.
"Mor'ika?" a soft voice asked form beside him.
Frantic eyes turned to the nervous form of Zoom. "W-what?"
"D-did you have a nightmare?" Zoom asked, hesitant.
A pang went through Morale's chest. He wasn't sure what was worse; the image of all four of them, living happily after the war or the cold, dead arms of his brothers pulling him beneath the freezing water. He shivered.
Morale exhaled, collapsing back onto his pillow. "Yeah, I did."
There was silence for a moment. "Do you want to talk about it?"
The urge laugh struck him; if he could count on anything, it would be Zoom's awkward attempts to help. Except, he couldn't count on that, not anymore. He couldn't count on anything.
"No, it's fine," he replied. "I don't remember much of it anyway."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zoom nod in acceptance. Morale didn't want to look closely in Zoom's direction - towards Throwpillow and Ghost's bunks.
"You know," Zoom started, "this is the fifth time this has happened."
Morale suppressed a snort. Of course he fucking knew. Over the past two days since his squadmates' not coming home - deaths - Morale had been awoken from nightmares. It was just getting worse.
"You could maybe try talking to Coral? I know he's dealt with grief before and maybe he could help," Zoom continued.
This time, Morale did laugh. It wasn't nice, not like his usual laugh filled with happiness and optimism. But then, nothing about him would be usual anymore; not without Sketch, Throwpillow, and Ghost by his side.
"Coral won't be able to do shit, Zoom," Morale spat out, bitter. "I can't even get out of bed in the morning."
He wasn't exaggerating. After seeing off his brothers' bodies and Commander Fox allowing Morale to sleep in his bed for comfort, one of the medics had had to move Morale to his own the next day. He hadn't been able to get up since, not wanting to see the room that had him remembering his brothers at every single possible moment.
Morale felt like nothing would be okay anymore. He felt so heavy and so tired. He kind of wished Zoom had let his dead brothers drag him under the freezing water.
Turning over on his bunk, facing away from him, Morale said, "Just leave me alone, Zoom. You've got a shift in a couple of hours."
There was a minute of nothing happening. He thought Zoom was going to press the issue - part of Morale hoped he would, another part of him was convinced he would punch anyone who tried to get him to talk - but ultimately, Morale heard Zoom climb back into the bunk he was sleeping in. Ghost's old bunk. He forced himself to push away the anger; it wasn't Zoom's fault where he'd been told to sleep.
Morale reached underneath his pillow to grab three things; Pillow's datapad, Ghost's stuffed massiff, and the picture Sketch had drawn of their entire squad when they were young cadets.
He felt tears well up in his eyes. He'd never get another drawing from Sketch. He'd never see Pillow researching food late at night. He'd never see Ghost cuddling his stuffed massiff while saying he hated the thing.
Morale was always going to be alone, now.
