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And I would never get to see Agatha ever again, and that was the greatest pain of all.
What would I have to think about each night in solitary?
The idea that each time the moon rose, another fighter would be taking his turn with Agatha.
It was enough to drive a Vulcarian insane.
The best I could look forward to was hope I would lose my mind quickly.
Or else take matters into my own hands and cut short my sentence with a sharp blade, length of rope, or dash my brains against the hard tile floor.
I wouldn’t be the first to do that, I was sure.
And I wouldn’t be the last.
“It was supposed to be right here,” I said. “Right here. Beside this statue of a Desert Flower.”
Agatha was the first to see through her cloud of emotions and shifted position so she sat beside me.
She wrapped her arms around me and I rested my arm over her.
I didn’t deserve this kindness, this warmth from her.
But it sure felt good to have her so close.
We sat there with my back against the statue as the suns eased over the horizon and took their heat with them.
We fell asleep and awoke in grey twilight.
I checked Agatha was beside me and was relieved to find she was.
She lay with her legs out straight and turned at ninety degrees at her hips with her head on my chest and one arm draped over my stomach.
I leaned down and kissed her on top of the head.
In a desert of emptiness and death, she was all I had.
She was all I wanted.
And still, I managed a smile.
It was big considering the situation we found ourselves in.
I had zero reason to smile.
Except for her.
Her stomach growled and she mumbled in her sleep as she sat up and blinked awake.
She ran her hands over her face.
“Hungry?” I said.
“A little,” she said, which was another way of saying she was starving. “Do we have any jerky left?”
“We ate the last of it today. But there might be something I can rustle up…”
I got up and Agatha stretched her arms and legs and massaged her back.
