LEO
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01/03/2003
Panay, The Philippines
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My brain is lousily rattling as I think about how to even start this damn letter, pen poised on the paper as I use my knee as a desk.

'Dear Nova.' Absolutely not.

'To Nova.' No.

'Hello, Nova.' 

For fucks sake.

I'm not exactly a romance type of guy through and through, and my hangover isn't broadening my creativity.

I think back to how Dad would write his letters to Mom when he was trying to 'woo' her. She'd secretly kept all of them, let me and my brothers read them when we were old enough to understand.

We would laugh at the things my Dad had written, say it was ' so embarrassing'.

Now, I'm in the exact same position as my Dad was all those years ago.

'Sweet Kate,' was always his opening line.

I think if I kicked off the letter with 'sweet Nova', she'd probably shoot me before even reading it.

He used to write a poem. I can't write poems, I can barely fucking write in a straight line.

How did he write the poems? I can vaguely remember a few, but the memories are bitty and broken up into chunks.

He used to write about the things in his life that reminded him of her.

All I can write are the things I can't physically bring myself to say out loud since, despite my age, I'm apparently a fucking hermit.

I took my damn frustration out on her, all because I'm terrified of what's going on in my own head, of my vulnerability.  

She was so damn oblivious to what I meant by the 'issue'.

The issue is that now, I can't imagine my life without her; but after everything that's happened, I've got to imagine it.

I tiredly glimpse down at my watch, catching the arrows pointing at 9:30am.

I've got around thirty minutes to spill every last emotion onto a piece of scrap paper; find her, apologise and give it to her before she leaves.

The pen hasn't even made a damn mark as of now.

'Nova,'

Just 'Nova'. Her name. That's it. That's the most creative fucking starting line I can gather.

In hindsight, it is probably a good idea. As soon as her name hits the paper, the pen keeps flowing.

The ballpoint glides, each black stroke of ink another drop of my feelings pouring out.

I suppose once I get started, I don't lack in creativity as much as I thought. It feels as though this single pen has hauled a weight from my shoulders, from my mind.

I sign off the letter with my name, folding it in half and checking the time.

Fuck, 9:50.

I launch to my feet, urgently sprinting around from my space at the back of the barracks and dashing into main base.

It's quieter than usual, there isn't as much hustle and bustle as earlier. My eyes fall onto Tara, who is helping to load artillery into one of the SUV's.

"Tara!" I yell, catching her attention as I jog towards her.

She turns, furrowing her eyebrows with a scoff before resuming her task.

What the fuck?

"Tara," I catch my nervous breath, halting at her side, "where's Nova?"

Her head whips to face me as she narrows her eyes. "What the fuck do you mean 'where's Nova'?" She snarls.

I'm taken aback by her icy tone. This isn't like Tara. At all.

"Well, if anybody knows where she is it's probably-"

"-You didn't even bother to say goodbye, Leo. What the hell is wrong with you?" She shakes her head in disapproval, swivelling her gaze back to the artillery.

What?

"That's why I'm looking for her, to say goodbye," I urge, shifting on my heels and spinning my head around.

"Are you really that much of a goddamn idiot, Hendrix? Check the fucking time!" She hisses.

I glance down at my watch.

"I already did, it's only 9:52-"

Fuck.

It hits me like a ton of bricks. A wave of nausea washes right through my system.

My watch.

My fucking watch is twenty minutes slow.

"They already left, Leo. I can't believe you," she murmurs.

I can't believe it either, I can't even reply. There's too much damn regret lodged deep in my throat. I crouch to the floor, leaning against the van with a hand over my mouth.

Tara raises her eyebrows, most likely realising that there's something deeper ticking in my mind.

"Leo?" She carefully kneels down beside me, a confused edge to her voice.

"The time. The time on my fucking watch is wrong," I pinch the top of my nose, trying to control my rage.

Her mouth gapes slightly before closing.

"So, you wanted to say goodbye?"

"Of course I damn did! How long ago did they leave?"

"Maybe, just over ten minutes ago?" She squints her eyebrows in thought.

Ten minutes, I can make that. I'm a skilled driver, or maybe Marcus could take the wheel. I jump to my feet, gripping my hair between my fingers and pacing in a circle as I form a ridiculous plan.

Tara is glaring at me like I've devolved into a lunatic, jaw completely ajar.

"Right. I just need a van-"

"-what in the goddamn hell do you need a van for, Hendrix!"

North's familiar voice echoes. Tara's shakes her head at me discreetly as he approaches.

I know I'm being completely irrational. I have no idea of how to get to the fucking airport, and I can't exactly tell North that I need a van to go speeding after the fucking Falcons.

"I just had something I needed to do," I sigh.

"And why in the damn fuck do you need a van for that?" He folds his arms.

"Yamato left something behind, I found it in the mess hall,"

"And what exactly is that? What is so goddamn important that you have to go bolting after him like a godforsaken madman?!"

He's definitely pissed off with me.

"A gun." My answer is quick, he won't be able to tell that I'm lying. After all, I'm a damn good liar.

"A gun? You want to speed off in one of our SUV's to deliver a fucking gun? Unless it's Shields' Smith & Wesson, there's nobody else who gives that much of a damn fuck about their artillery. They've got enough around!"

Even hearing her surname causes my breath to hitch in guilt.

"Speaking of Shields," he continues, "I'm very fucking disappointed in you, Hendrix. You both finally fucking found camaraderie and yet you don't even bother to see her off? Shame on you," he seethes.

I don't say a word, only revel in my silence. I can't stay on this subject.

"Do you finally want to make yourself useful? Go scavenge the barracks for any remaining belongings. I haven't seen you all fucking morning," he hisses.

My head hangs low in complete and utter defeat, trudging away with no energy to answer back.

I can't fucking believe this.

She's going to think I was being honest when I said 'it's wrong'.

Footsteps jog up behind me, Tara reappearing and latching her arm onto mine.

"Leo, please. What's really going on?" She speaks in a hushed tone, guiding me aside.

She saw right through my lie. I guess there's nothing more to lose. This letter now has absolutely no fucking worth.

I'm silent once again as I unfold it and pass it to her. Her eyebrows knit together as she takes it from my hands, beginning to read it.

I witness the changes in her facial expression as her brown eyes scan through the words carefully.

"Did you really write this?" She whispers, features softening.

I shoot her a brief nod, taking the letter back into my possession. 

"It's lovely-"

"-It's pointless,"

"Oh Leo, shut up," she demands, almost as though I'm a child.

I want to rip it apart. What a goddamn waste of emotions and ink. I position my fingers down the centre until Tara lunges it from my hands, almost tearing it in the process.

"You are not getting rid of this damn letter, Leo Hendrix. I won't let you. If you try to rip it, I'm taking it and looking after it," she hisses.

"Alright, I won't rip it," I sigh, laying out my hand.

"Promise?" She urges.

"Promise," I groan, feeling her place the scrap back into my palm.

"You're acting like it's the last time you'll ever see her," she chuckles.

"It's not that. We had a little, miscommunication," I grumble, Tara tilts her head.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, everything I said in that letter, I basically implied I actually feel the fucking opposite," I sigh, sliding the paper back into my pocket.

"I'm sure she didn't take it to heart if it was just a 'heat of the moment' type of thing," she shrugs.

"Maybe not, but the fact I didn't say goodbye isn't exactly helping my case."

She falls into silence, glancing away because she knows I'm right.

From Nova's perspective, I just 'didn't' bother to say goodbye. She doesn't know that I was trying to scribble out an admission, one I couldn't fucking bring myself to say out loud because apparently I'm a goddamn mute.

"You'd better head into the barracks, I think North is already pissed since he doesn't know where you've been all morning," she whispers after a few moments, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"You're right, Tara. I'll see you later," I murmur, turning on my heels and heading for the respective building.

—

I'm not doing anything useful at all. I'm pondering in an aimless circle, damn kicking myself whilst 'checking' for any belongings left behind.

My gaze lands on her bunk in the corner, feet involuntarily pacing me towards it.

The covers are still twisted from where I ridiculously jumped out of them a few hours ago, pillows still dented from where we laid our heads.

I slowly get onto my knees, peering under the bed to see if she left anything behind.

Nothing but a roll of fucking gauze and a pack of cigarettes.

Cigarettes?

I didn't even know she smoked. Unless they're Tara's.

If I had a lighter, I'd be helping my damn self to one. It's been a few years since I quit smoking, but seeing the packet under these circumstances is tempting me.

I sweep my hand under the bed, scooping up the box and flicking it open.

To my surprise, there's a lighter wedged in the gap where a few cigarettes have been taken out.

I slide them into my pocket and stroll outside, towards my usual haunt around the back of the barracks.

A cigarette is pursed in my mouth before I've even sat down, a small ember emitting from the end as I spark it up.

I jam it between my lips, fishing the crumpled piece of paper out from my pocket and critically scanning over the words for what feels the millionth damn time.

~
Nova,

I don't know how to write a letter like this, so just take it with a pinch of salt.

What I said earlier, when I asked why you 'did this to me', I didn't mean to hurt you.

What I was trying to say, but couldn't find the right damn words, was that you've somehow broken down every wall I've built around myself without even trying.

From that mission in Santa Elena when we swore to never work alongside each other again, you were the last person I expected would be able to make me feel so damn vulnerable with my emotions.

I really never thought it'd be you.

I'm so sorry for saying it was wrong. I lied in the heat of the moment, terrified of the things you are capable of making me feel.

It's so right, Nova. It's so fucking right.

I've never understood what I was feeling, quite literally because I've never felt this.

After all the bloodshed we've faced, dark corners we've hauled each other out of, there's one thing that stands out to me.

We just, work.

The reason I'm writing this is because I don't know how to say it out loud, it's slightly easier with a pen and paper.

If I could muster the courage to verbalise this, I promise I would tell you to your face.

The past few days we've spent together are so short in the grand scheme of things, but they've been some of the best in my life.

I hated you, Nova. I really fucking hated you, and I made that very clear.

There was a time we wanted to wring each others necks, looking back it seems like insanity.

It eventually turned into me 'trying' to hate you, all because there was something more chipping down my walls. Something I didn't want to let get through them.

No amount of ink can describe how sorry I am for the way I used to treat you.

I've said horrible things to you, done awful things to you. I'm just a man, and I know damn well I'm not a perfect one.

But, there's just always been something about you. Something that I disregarded in the past, but something that I now can't imagine life without.

I knew I was feeling something more the second we found out you were getting transferred back to the Falcons last year.

But since being in the Philippines, after almost losing you twice, it started to become more clear to me.

I wanted to deny it. Accepting it was the last thing I wanted to do, but I've definitely denied it for long enough by now.

I'm so fucking in love with you, Nova Shields.

It really has always been you.
~