2025-02-04: Do You Remember Love?
- Log: 2025-02-04: Do You Remember Love?
- Cast: Astarte Spalding-Monteiro
- Where: Side 1
- Date: U.C. 0080 01 01
- Summary: As one chapter in the world's history closes, another begins for two of its people.
Astarte Spalding hurt. That was all she could think as she lay in her hospital bed. She hurt. Her leg, broken and raised up in a cast, hurt. Her face, bandaged up on the right side and still stinging from antiseptic, hurt. The rest of her body, sprinkled in cuts and scrapes and sprains, hurt. But most importantly of all, as she stared at the pink-frosted cupcake that had been left on her bedtable, her heart hurt.
Happy 30th birthday, Astarte. What a way to spend it.
The final days of the One Year War had seen the final flights of many a battleship, the Agamemnon being merely one of them. But it was hard for Astarte to just consider the ship she had spent most of the last year on merely one of many. Thankfully, the majority of the crew managed to get out, not necessarily unscathed, but every loss they suffered stung her heart as if they were family. Because they were, really. Imagining platitudes she knew would be coming from every elected official in the Sphere in the coming days about the noble sacrifices made in the name of peace causes her to sigh wearily. What good was peace if you needed war to see it?
As the pink-haired woman commisserates in her mind, she hears a knock at the doorframe. She turns her head as much as she could, her eye catching the too-tall frame of the Agamemnon's swarthy tactical officer leaning against the frame, his tanned skin wrapped with bandages here and there and his dark hair, usually immaculately slicked back, hanging loose over his forehead. As Astarte's face turns in its typical annoyance at this man, his turns in its typical annoying smirk.
The woman grumbles, "Diego Monteiro, what is it?"
The man chuckles, "Not your warmest welcome, Asty, but I've had worse, I suppose. Just wanted to see how you were doing."
Astarte clicks her tongue as the man made his way into her room, sitting down in the chair next to her bed. "Take a look at me and guess." She had long since given up on fighting back against Diego's nickname for her, which had initially gotten so deep under her skin. Honestly, hearing it now was a much-needed balm of normalcy.
"At least you haven't lost your edge." Diego gives another chuckle as he grabs the remote on the bedside table and turns on the television hanging from the ceiling. The channel was tuned to a news broadcast from Side 1 of a crowd in the streets, jubilantly celebrating the end of the war. Under the narration of the anchor could be heard several radios blasting Lynn Minmay's "Do You Remember Love?" The movie of the same name, a dramatization of the Zentradi War, had come out last year and brought a newfound popularity to Minmay's music. About time, Astarte had thought, having always been fond of the idol. The concept of a song that could stop a war had particularly rung true to the anti-war contingent, and the song was a popular mainstay at protests. "Makes you think things are gonna finally be okay for once, huh?"
"Says you. This war isn't gonna end for me until I get out of this bed." She sighs. "The doctors say I'm doing fine, but it's hard to believe them when they also say I'll likely have a limp for the rest of my life." Astarte usually tried to keep her composure around Diego, as any cracks were easy for him to prod. But it was hard to hide her displeasure at the toll the war had taken on her body. She raises her right hand to the bandages that covered her cheek and the side of her neck, the result of a heat hawk mere feet from her face.
Diego's smile and shoulders drop and he leans forward, hands clasped together. "I'm sorry, Astarte. I should have..." It was the first time Astarte could recall him using her actual name. Or being this sincere. "...I should have gotten to you sooner."
Astarte reaches out, weakly placing her hand on top of his. "Never thought I'd be the one telling you to lighten up a bit. It's fine. There wasn't anything you could have done to prevent it. You at least got the rest of me out of harm's way. Now I'll only be wearing this war on my face instead of my entire body." She smiles and gives his hands a soft squeeze to reassure him.
Diego gives a mumble at Astare's pale hand on his own, a stark contrast of complexion. "I've been doing a lot of thinking these last couple days."
"First time for everything."
"Life is short, Astarte. I can't just spend it... gallivanting around." Diego looks up at Astarte and swallows the lump in his throat. "I can't take what I have for granted. I can't take who I have for granted. Astarte..."
A second passes as an eternity.
"...I love you."
It takes another second for it to hit her before she chuckles. "Hahaha, Diego, don't make me laugh, it hurts my face." A look at his face shows that this is not one of his jokes. "...Oh my God, Diego."
"I've always thought you were cute, even from the day we set sail. I think that's why I messed with you so much, you were cute when you were pissed off. But as we went on, I came to appreciate everything about you. You're a genius, you're thoughtful, you've always got the back of everyone around you, you never forget a birthday, just looking at you made me feel like we were gonna make it at the end. And we did, didn't we?"
Astarte feels at a loss for words. Not because she can't believe the words coming out of Diego's mouth, but because she believes every last one deeply. "Jesus, Diego. You're such an idiot." She slowly shakes her head from side to side. "I've always liked that about you. A big predictable rockhead."
As Lynn Minmay's chorus swells through the television speakers, the two finally look each other in the eye.
"When this is all over and I'm out of this bed, why don't you take me out to dinner? Your treat."
"...I'd love to, Asty."
Astarte gives another sigh. "I owe Amelia 50 gilla. I swore up and down you'd go for Sasha."