11 Bottles

Raphael set down the bottle, the sixth in what was a line of eleven half-sized bottles of whiskey he had set up after ordering them. He sat alone, the bar some dank place in the lowest levels of Dam-Torsad, a place where only the lowest in Amarrian society would go. Despite the odd glances he got as a True Amarrian in this shithole, he felt as if he belonged here, here on the bottom.

“So...why can't we all make this work? Why do I have to choose? Ni Kunni...my ancestry...well, they didn't have to choose. They had plural marriages.”

The words haunted his mind, not letting go of it, chasing him from one bottle to the next. Both!?! He thought, unable to even fathom the idea. He took another long drink, finishing it off. His mind raced, trying to think of why. Why she couldn’t choose, why she demanded such from him.

Eran Mintor. Once a proud General in the Tribal Liberation front; now a groveling shadow of a man. He had given up everything to be with Shalee after she seduced him. He then realized his mistake and tried to get everything back. He mouthed off on the Intergalactic Summit. He repaired the TLF ships, once even doing it when they were firing upon Shalee herself.

Raphael Saint. A common-born Amarrian who had joined up with Praetoria Imperialis Excubitores shortly after becoming a capsuleer. He had met Shalee within its ranks, and had been flying beside her on the battlefield ever since. The worst thing she faulted him for was walking away from her to clear his head after she had told him she had spending her days at Zenton’s place while he was gone.

Raphael couldn’t even begin to see where he was on the losing side of that argument, and he poured every detail in his mind, trying to make sense of it all. He couldn’t figure it out, and in his desperation, he turned to someone he thought he wouldn’t ask for help from again.

“Lord…” he mumbled, his voice slow, his speech slurred slightly. He frowned, almost as if he was having second thoughts before he continued. He opened and gulped the seventh bottle down, as if needing some courage for the conversation ahead.

“What….what’s wrong with me? He betrayed her, and yet she cannot give him up, but has shrugged me off so many times before….”

He ran over all the times since he got back that she had given up on him. The night he got back when she gave him back the wedding ring. The night in the Basilica that she told him to find someone else. All the times that told him to give up and leave. Yet, she had told him she loved him.

“What’s he done that’s so goddamn special?” He asked, his voice filled more with sorrow than anger.

Saint ran over everything. Eran had given up his home, his friends, his beliefs, everything for Shalee. He did not try to give them up for long, however. Yet, she must see this as his show of love. But Saint had been serving God and Empire from day one.

“What am I supposed to do? I did not have to give up everything to be with her, is that why I’ve lost? Because I’ve been fighting beside her since I met her?” Saint frowned and took a long drink from the seventh bottle, realizing that he was now being penalized for starting out on her side instead of joining it later.

“So that’s it…” he says, resignation sinking in. “I lose because I’ve always been there….instead of having to drop everything to come running…”

Raphael began drinking from the eighth bottle again, not taking it from his lips until it was empty. Maybe this was his chance. His sacrifice of everything. He’d already sacrificed his dignity and his public image by chasing after her even when she left him for a Brutor, things very important to any Amarrian. So many sacrifices made, yet unseen. Those had been made, however, for her. To have her return to him….and him alone.

“Both…” he uttered. There could never be a ‘both’ situation. One cannot love two people with all their heart. He’d be sacrificing everything about who he was and what he stood for if he entered into this ‘plural marriage,’ and for what? Half of her heart? To be nothing but one of a pair, a ready replacement available in case of the loss of the other.

The ninth bottle was already halfway finished, his thoughts becoming less clear as the alcohol finally began to catch up with the rapid pace he’d been drinking it. It was beginning to hit his system in force.

He hadn’t worked this hard, ignored all the advice people had given him, to settle for this. Eran had agreed readily, but he was nothing. His grief over what he had done, both to himself and to Shalee, shattered the once proud man, and now he would agree to anything in order to have Shalee even look at him. He had said it himself.

”I've lost everything....everything but her, Raphael.....of course I'm going to cling onto her ankles until I'm dragged to death.”

That wasn’t love. That was obsession. Eran was close to becoming another Garst, though thankfully for Shalee, nowhere near as diabolical. When Raphael had pointed it out to him, Eran had gone quiet. Raphael loved Shalee, but he did not have a dangerous obsession for her. He’d rather not have her at all than seen her shared between two.

He let out a long sigh after he had finished the tenth bottle. His unwillingness to see Shalee become such meant that Eran would ‘win.’ He just couldn’t stand to see Shalee become such. He’d sacrifice his chance to have her to see her remain faithful to one. To see her loyal to one God, one Empire, and one man.

He took the eleventh bottle, determined to finish it before everything caught up to him and hopefully erased the memories of the night. He’d sacrifice his chance with her to see her remain pure. Yet one more unnoticed sacrifice.

X

Raphael trudged through the snow outside the Keep, heading towards the Amarrian shuttle that he had taken to get there. CONCORD was still enforcing its no-fly status on him, reducing his choices to mere non-combat vessels. As he fought to get his flight status back, he was trying to get things in order for his return to the front.

He wrapped his uniform coat around him but it did little to block the chilling wind, the snow crunching beneath his boots. The shuttle was in sight, parked on an out-of-the-way landing pad, when he suddenly dropped to a knee.

“Goddammit…” he muttered, the curse quickly stifled by the wind.

He got back to his feet and took a couple more steps before dropping to both knees and falling forward, holding his arms coming out to keep him from hitting the ground.

“You idiot…” he grumbled to himself, a mixture of lament and anger in his voice.

He slammed his fist onto the snow covered walkway.

“She’s done nothing to you! How could you!”

He twisted his hand in the snow, gathering a fistful of it.

“For her!? You did it for her? You’re nothing to her, you’re only her past now.”

He pushed himself up to sit on his heels, his uniform trousers beginning to soak through as he kneeled in the snow.

“She saved you, saved you from throwing it all away, and this is how you repay her!? You betray her!?”

His voice carried for a fair bit as he almost shouted out.

“It’s over, you need to realize that! She’s destroying you!”

“Goddamit, I know! I know, alright?”

He went quiet as he realized he had answered himself. His chest heaved slightly as he sat there, the snow blowing around him.

“I know, I know it all, and I hate myself for it.”

He suddenly got a very worried look on his face and his snow covered hands shot up as he put them behind his head, his breathing quickening.

“She’s gone, let her go, she’s gone, let her go, she’s gone…”

The words rushed out as he tried to calm himself.

“Shesgonelethergo…”

He let out a long sigh before his voice filled with sorrow.

“I can’t…”

The uniformed men came running from the shuttle.

“Colonel! Colonel, are you alright?!”

They reached Raphael and grabbed his arms, helping him up.

“I’m alright…” he muttered, his voice weak.

“Let’s get him inside!” One called to the other, hefting Raphael’s arm over his shoulder as the other did the same.

The two men carried him to the shuttle as he dragged his legs, trying to walk with them but finding himself exhausted. As they reached the door to the shuttle, he mumbled to them.

“Stop...”

They stopped, and Raphael craned his neck to look back at the fortress in the mountain. It looked peaceful through the gently falling snow, hiding the hostility inside.

“I can’t…”

He turned his head back around and the soldiers helped him into the shuttle, the door closing behind them as the engines began to whine, warming up for the ride home.

Nein

Raphael Saint entered into the aging chapel annex in a fluster. He began to look through the cupboards as if searching for something before he began shouting at no one in particular.

“Can’t commit?! Can’t commit?!”

He slammed a cupboard door.

“What the hell does that mean?!?”

He threw open the doors of the next cupboard, causing one of them to fall of its rotting hinges.

“What reason could she have not to be able to commit? I’m committed to her! All a commitment would be loyalty; being true to me and me only.”

His voice lowers to a growl.

“Is that where the problem lies?”

Not finding what he was looking for in the cupboard he moves to the next one, this time both doors coming off as he flings them open, the ancient pieces of wood flying across the room in opposite directions before splintering upon impact.

“I’ve done so much for her. Watched out for her. Kept secrets for her. Came to her aid. I spelt words in the sky for her! I went on an impossible task she asked me to undertake, and how does she respond? She changes. She changes and cancels the engagement because of it. She leaves me.”

He stops searching, his arms dropping to his sides.

“She left. Left me for the war and God knows what else. It’s her only concern now. Her next kill…”

He frowns heavily as he ponders his last line. After a moment he begins to look through the cupboard again, quickly, but not with the haste of his previous effort.

“She couldn’t even give me a reason for why she couldn’t continue the engagement. As if her involvement in the war stopped her from being loyal. From wanting to marry me.”

His countenance sours more, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Maybe she doesn’t anymore...”

He thinks back to their last encounter.

I’ll always love you.

He violently kicks one of the lower cabinet doors, sending his foot through it.

“Actions speak louder than words, Shalee!!”

He runs his fingers through his hair, almost pulling it out. He turns about and sits on the cabinet top, holding the top of his head with both hands, a stressed expression on his face.

“What’s going on?”

His exasperation reaches fever pitch as he dwells on the subject.

“I can’t even go out there myself!”

He stands up quickly and renews his search vigorously.

“Goddamn Concord!”

He wrenches a door off as he attempts to open it, finding nothing in the cupboard.

“They won’t even let me fly! She’s running away, and the goddamned space police are keeping me from following suit.”

His grip tightens as he thinks about the ships he lost as he attempted to “illegally” fly. He growls again.

“Goddammit.”

He angrily begins to search through the remaining cupboards in the long-abandoned chapel. He suddenly stops and looks upwards.

“I thought you got me last time, God, but you’ve outdone yourself.”

He frowns and looks back at the cupboards, continuing his search.

“You’ve outdone yourself, but I’m not quitting yet.”

Ate Up

The door creaked shut behind Raphael as he entered the abandoned chapel. The floor boards groaned as he walked hesitantly down the main aisle, looking uncomfortable. His eyes stayed fixed on the altar, however, his hands staying locked at his sides as if he were afraid to touch anything. Once he reached the end of the aisle, he stood there for a second, considering his actions; wondering if it was the right thing to do.

“Lord,” he starts, casting his eyes up above the altar, almost looking towards the ceiling. “I know we didn’t part on the best of terms, and honestly, I’m still not entirely sure about the whole thing, but…”

He drops to a knee, holding his eyes on the invisible point. “…I need your help.”

Raphael is silent for a few seconds, as if allowing for a response.

“I’m afraid.”

He casts his eyes downward, as if slightly ashamed at admitting to it.

“I’ve just come back from another long leave of absence, without any word from her, though I made sure to send her updates, let her know I was alright.”

He stays quiet for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts.

“After what happened the last time I was gone…”

His eyes search the ground as he thinks about it.

“…I’m afraid of what I’ll find this time.”

He looks back up above the altar. “Six weeks, and not a single word from her, though I sent her messages since the first week.”

He looks beseechingly at the invisible deity. “Are you testing my faith, God? In you? In her?”

He frowns slightly.

“I’m afraid of what I might come back to, afraid of what kept her from contacting me.”

Raphael pauses for a moment before continuing.

“Six weeks. No reply.”

Raphael drops his other knee and sits back on top of his heels.

“After what I heard the last time I came back, what am I to expect from six weeks without a single reply?”

He runs his hands through his hair.

“She sent me on this assignment. This was a personal favor to her. I went well out of my way to help her, and what does she do? She ignores me for six weeks.”

Sighing, he continues.

“Perhaps she was trying to get me out of the way. Maybe I’m a fool for leaving again.”

Looking back up at his invisible point above the altar, he looks lost.

“I want to give her the benefit of the doubt, I don’t want to go rushing to the wrong conclusion…but she doesn’t give me anything to put faith into. I find her sleeping at her ex-boyfriend’s place, and then she sends me away a week later…”

He shakes his head slightly.

“Maybe I was a fool to go. She sends me away after staying at her ex’s place, and then ignores me for six weeks. What am I to gather from this? What am I to think?”

Raphael lets out a slight distressed laugh.

“I’m sure she’ll claim it to be some innocent thing. That she was too busy for six weeks to talk to her fiancé. That she didn’t have time at all to send even a single word.”

He frowns slightly.

“She can be such a child.”

After sitting silently for a few moments, Raphael climbs to his feet. He takes a long look at the structure around him.

“Well, time to go find out what’s wrong.”

He begins walking to the exit, still talking as he does so.

“Please Lord, help me.”

His footfall echoed slightly as he makes his way to the exit just as he had entered the chapel: hesitant.

“I need to stop speculating and go see what has actually happened, but…”

He walks the rest of the aisle in silence, stopping only as he reaches the doorway. He turns to look over his shoulder at the altar again.

“…I’m afraid.”