Beyond

ᑕᕼᗩᑭ丅ᗴᖇ ᖴᗝᖇ丅Ƴ

𝓕𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓕𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓻 ✶༄ ‧₊˚

"We're never going home, are we?" Cammy said quietly, sitting in the cockpit as the stars reflected in his childish eyes.

"We will," Sylvia replied, walking down the aisle and sitting next to him. "I promise, okay? When have I broken a promise?" Sylvia said, smiling.

Cammy scoffed and giggled slightly. "You know, only like every time you've ever made one."

Sylvia laughed and shoved him jokingly. "Hey. . . that's not entirely true," She drawled out. "But seriously, I'll get you home. I'll get all of us home."

Cammy nodded solemnly, realizing what his usually carefree life had become. He's only thirteen, likely fourteen by now. Who knew how much time was spent on the mission, no one was keeping track.

No one knew how much time was between the actual travel through the black hole and waking up. They possibly could've even time traveled, forward or backward, that is. Or they could all be dead, in the same hell of an afterlife.

Barren halls were all quiet as usual, the only sound coming from a distant echo from the multitude of others on the ship. The eleven. One sound could be carried down the entirety of the ship, heard up to twenty seconds later, depending.

They're done. Done with games. They never wanted anything like this, except maybe Sophia, who lies half-dead in a hospital bed. They're only kids. They just want to go home. If it's not destroyed.

This was the last straw. They're not losing anyone else. They either live together or die together, no in between. No more death.

They held a gathering in the main room, where they launched with a large panoramic view of the sky through the unbreakable window. Sylvia and Leo stood side by side with their backs facing it. Looking toward the other crewmembers who were scattered about, either standing, sitting on the floor, or finding their way to random seats.

There were only two not present: Sophia and Willow. A few were confused by this, but others knew fully what was going on, shifting uncomfortably at the solemnity of the situation.

Sylvia stepped forward and cleared her throat. "We're done with death." Her words were spoken with great confidence and power, clear emotion thick in her voice. Her mouth twitched upward slightly at the faces and noises of approval. "I think we've all lost someone," She swallowed her tears as memories of Bruce and the others floated through her mind. "So today, we honor them, and we can only hope their legacies live on in great honor. For too long, we've pushed these heroes' sacrifices under the rug, and for what?" She swallowed and motioned for Leo to hand her a bag of something.

She pulled a small bouquet of red poppies out of the bag, nodded in gratitude toward Leo, and held them up. "Red poppies," Standing in silence for a moment, she stood rigid and recollected her thoughts. "A flower officially used to represent those who served in war. The hot red color represents the blood they shed for their country."

Her voice rose tremendously, and she cried out, a few tears tracing tracks down her flushed cheeks. "Our friends might not have fought in war. . . but for all of humanity! AND THEY WILL BE HONORED!"

Most cheered, others stunned to silence. And finally, a shadow. Standing in the doorway, her shoulders shook with unheard sobs as she stepped into the light. Willow was revealed, no doubt teary-eyed, with rosy cheeks and a trembling lip. She stood in the doorway and nodded at Sylvia to continue.

She wiped her tears and persisted. "So here today, each one of these will be shot into space and one day. When they're found, the nine we lost can be reunited again." A chute was opened, and the airlock remained sealed.