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Lodi looked up from where he was sitting, legs dangling through an out-of-the-way balcony of the Tower, staring out at the Ural Mountains, ((Earth; it still looked like Earth)), as the Guardian approached.
“Guardian. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The Guardian shuffled their feet for a moment, casting their own considering glance at the mountains before meeting his gaze and simply stating,
“Welsh.”
Lodi blinked.
“I'm sorry, come again?”
“I want to learn Welsh. You said you’d teach me something if I taught you how to fly a spaceship. So, Welsh.”
For all his brain has been through the past few weeks, it should not be short circuiting like this now.
“Uh, right. Of course. Of course! I'd be happy to.”
The Guardian nodded and sat down next to him, resting their arms on the balcony bars as they looked over the valley.
“Wait, right now?”
The Guardian smirked. “No, not right now. I just… wanted to join you. It's a nice view.”
“That, we can agree on.”
For a moment the two of them simply enjoyed the companionable silence. Somewhere above them a bird was singing. Something clattered loud enough to be heard from a far off hallway, along with the muffled, yet clearly exasperated shouts of some workers. Ahead of them the valley stretched out and off, up to the mountains peaked with the snow of early spring. The sun— whether it was rising or setting, the Guardian wasn't certain; hard to maintain a circadian rhythm when you were traveling so much— cast the hills in golden light.
A gentle breeze brushed past them and the Guardian asked, “Does it look the same?”
“Hm?”
“The mountains. The planet. Does it look the same as when… as when you were here? Did you ever visit this area?”
“Only in pictures,” Lodi responded. “I learned the language, Russian, from wiretapping telephones but… never got the chance to visit. Too dangerous at the time. But yeah. Surprisingly, it does look the same.”
“Where are you from?”
Lodi sighed and leaned back. “Across the ocean. A dead-zone now, I'm sure, from what I've gathered, but… I had a vision when we were back on Kepler. You and I in the future, standing on the lake shore by my home. So who knows, maybe it's okay over there. Or it will be at least. Who knows when though…” He trailed off, eyes glazed over as he saw something through time that only he could see before he blinked and refocused on the person beside him. “So, Welsh! Any particular reason?”
The Guardian shrugged. “It sounded nice. It's a language, right?”
“Yes, though I have to admit I’m not very good. At least not compared to some of the other guys at the agency. Maybe I can find some old recordings or— or books to help.”
“We can figure it out together.”
Lodi regarded the Guardian a moment before saying, “You know, not that I'm not thrilled, but I didn't actually expect you to take me up on the offer.”
The light in the Guardian’s eyes dimmed, just a bit.
“Yeah, well… Dead things are hard to carry on your own I imagine.”
The oddly sincere answer tugged at Lodi’s heart strings. “And you? What are you carrying?”
The Guardian snorted. “I don't have any dead things of my own to remember. Anything I might have had… anyone… isn't just dead, but gone. So I figured… I'd help remember one of yours. And maybe, one day, it could become mine too.”
“That’s… really nice, Guardian. Thank you.” He paused, unsure if he should venture here, but found himself saying, “And I'm sorry. About your memories. You seem to have a, uh, different relationship to them than Miss Rey.”
The Guardian snorted. “Everyone does. And who knows, maybe if I saw what she did, I’d have a different opinion, but… it still doesn't stop the wanting.”
Lodi tried to put himself in Ikora's shoes, like he had a dozen times before. He had been shocked by how vehemently she had defended the distinction between who she was then versus who she was now. He thought back to that brief moment before she had had to hold the singularity together to buy them enough time to save the universe.
"Before we get further… the woman you knew. What was her name? I want to know who I'm fighting for."
He had found himself wondering recently whether one day, as Emissary, he would have to make that distinction. Forever Lodi, sloughing off Louis as nothing but the poor soul the Nine had seen fit to abduct.
((He refused))
But still. A part of him thought he understood. When cosmic beings (a-li-ens, as the Drifter was fond of saying), treated your life and death as a means to an end, you had to exert control somewhere, even if only over how you're perceived.
Speaking of which— “You seem oddly okay with the whole Nine meddling in our lives and supposed lack-of-free-will thing. Or you’re taking it better than Ikora, at least.”
The Guardian snorted. “I suppose I can come across that way. Really I just… don’t care. Or don’t see a point to worrying about it. My will feels like my own. I believe I’m making my own choices, and so long as I’m protecting others, what does it matter? Besides what else would I be doing? Renting an apartment somewhere in the city? Starting a little shop? Learning to farm?”
“It’d probably throw the Nine for a loop if you did.”
The Guardian barked out a laugh. They admired the Guardians who did choose a different life, Orin being one of them, but it never appealed enough for them to give it a go. The way Lodi said it though almost made them want to try it.
They sighed. “Maybe so, but… I don’t even know how I would. I don’t know a life outside of this— outside of being a Guardian; being a… a weapon… I had a gun in my hand two minutes after I came back. I don’t even know if I had held a gun before, and I never will. You said back on Kepler that I’m older than you were whenever you were drafted, but really, I was just born.” The Guardian’s eyes strayed to the clouds, still seeking out the comforting presence of the Traveler that was no longer there. “Maybe I’m just used to my destiny being decided for me. Being anything but a Guardian just… doesn’t feel right.”
Maybe Lodi had judged the Guardian too hastily. The longer he spent in the Last City, the more he was curious about the Traveler. Was it that that gave the Guardian purpose? Or the Vanguard and their obligations to the City?
((This was only the first of many conversations Lodi would have with the Guardian and over time he would learn the full story of the Final Shape and the last stand against the Witness. More important than that, he would learn of the precious time spent within the Traveler itself. He would learn of Micha-10 and her unique connection that gifted the Guardian those brief, but sacred glimpses into who the Traveler was))
((A being who did not desire worship, who did not even understand the concept, who sent out pieces of themselves— a sacrifice of faith, hope against hopelessness. The Traveler had no answers, no greater purpose or agenda, just… love. Light. Life.))
((He also learned of a home within the Traveler after a Guardian or Ghost’s final death. Wasn’t that the proof Lodi had been looking for? That Guardians were no longer the same person they had been in life? If they returned to the Light after death, didn’t that mean their original soul— if such a concept existed— had already moved on somewhere else?))
((He walked by Ikora each day and tried not to think about it))
Before Lodi could respond— and he had thoughts— the Guardian continued. “Maybe that’s why I want to learn about your dead things so much. I want something of my own I can claim. I wish I remembered how I died, who I left behind, even if it hurt, because at least they would be mine. Is that selfish?” The Guardian turned to face him more fully. “Can I even claim them? I'm a whole different person— I must be. So can they really be mine if I don't even know who they are?”
Lodi thought about it. Really thought about it for a minute. Who would he be if he didn't remember Ben, and his family: Fernanda, Betty, Phillip, and Benito. What did it mean to have a brother if he couldn't remember him? What about his mother, that taught him English, and grandparents that taught him German? What would it mean to know Spanish, to speak a whole other language, without remembering the father that had taught it to him? He still knew it. It was still a part of him.
The pebble is gone, eroded to sand, but the ripple continues outward.
Quarks and electrons binding and unbound, falling and rising as the universe continues its eternal entropic dance of change. Your molecules might have once been a star, but now they are yours. Were they any less a star?
"I think it's the most selfless thing in the world," he murmured. "Fate and family. It's beryllium. Their presence is impressed on you even if you can no longer realize it. Unraveling who you are backwards as well as forwards… Remembering who your molecules once loved… That sounds pretty selfless to me."
The Guardian was silent for a moment before uttering a quiet, "Thanks." They cleared their throat and brushed a hand over their eyes, trying to pretend Lodi's words hadn't pierced them as deeply as they had.
"Anytime." Lodi's smile was warm and the Guardian returned it softly. "You said something else though, and I realized I never asked if it was okay to call you 'Weapon'. Does that title bother you?"
The Guardian shrugged, before leaning back to brace on their hands and look at the mountains. Setting. The sun was definitely setting. "Not usually. Most of the time it's badass, but some days it's…"
The taste and tang of blood and Ether in their mouth. They fought through muscles seized with arc energy to pull the trigger, the pow pow pow of bullets hitting their mark a relief as much as a disgrace. Was this all they were good for?
"Copper," they finally said. "Copper and lead."
"Ah. Noted. You know, I know the universe was ending, but I just realized I never asked you for your actual name. That is so rude of me!"
The two of them laughed, and the Guardian grinned as they stood and stretched before offering Lodi a hand.
"Yeah, well, buy me a drink and maybe I'll tell you— Louis."
"Hey!"