Standing by the wayside, a small handmade trinket in hand, Benji contemplated. Death was not a familiar presence in his life. Maybe if it was, he’d have grown accustomed in some fashion; gained some armor or learned medicines for his heart.
It’d be his luck, too, to be blindsided. If there was anything they shared in common it was their infallible ability to come out of a bad situation gone horrible. Lena more so than him. Really, she always seemed to dance about firefights, nicked and grazed but never struck so hard so as not to get back up again. Staring at her gravestone now, he knew he feared death more than anything. Though luck never favored him, it would give and take. Death did no such thing. All it did was take.
Memories never meant much to him; complacency never spurred him into the nostalgia of it. He didn’t hold on. Benji only took in the new days, months, and years to come.
A short, dry laugh escaped him while he rotated the device in his hands almost absently. Maybe death had given something. Since now all he could think of were the words and laughter Lena had given him. All her bright thoughts– -and now, her hopes seemed to weigh on him. It was too much. Too much was left behind for Benji to sort through, but if not him, who? In the end, they were more alike than anyone. It seemed as though it would tarnish her memory not to carry that mantel.
Strange how things changed. Before this, to him Overwatch was just some failed organization from people trying to play hero. Not a symbol of hopes left behind, which Lena believed in more than anyone. Just like she had believed in him more than anyone.
Slowly moving up to her headstone, Benji placed the tech on it. As he walked away it flickered to life, a virtual portrait of Lena smiling towards the photographer, dated in loving memory.
How do you cope? || @coyomerde
