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Smells. Olfactory senses are able to isolate one from the rest, the ones of dirt and dust and petrichor. But which one is most distinct in his mind's eye? One of spice, and flavoring in the air. The smell breaks way to sound, and sight, like he could almost make out the face of the one spoon feeding him, comforting him. Then he hears distant roaring, like a faded drum on the horizon of war. But, he returned to the face feeding him, yet all he saw was a void within its place.
Vigil opened his eyes to the sight of a locker. Whether he dozed off or simply closed his eyes one minute too long, he lifted himself from his bench after a quick change of clothes and quietly took leave for the day, without starting conversation or looking anyone's way.
Everyone on the team has had some idea of Vigil's trauma. It comes out in his fighting form, much as if his anger and frustration are vented and honed in combat, like an arrow being sharpened. At some point they guess he ended up alone on a battlefront on his own, traumatized and lonesome, which is fairly close to the truth. When Vigil concentrates in combat, even his own teammates are aware to let him work on his own. Certainly a more preferable alternative than getting hurt in his way.
The combat is habitual to him, but only because he was raised that way. To Vigil, the combat is certainly therapeutic. Not that it quells his sorrows, but it helps him discharge his anger towards a direction without hurting others or more importantly, himself. Many times he finds himself believing that the world has taken so much from himself. A childhood, a family, perhaps even a chance to love others. The world has swallowed it within the void that he cannot venture and find his lost life. So, Vigil finds himself often bitter and partial to isolation, seeing millions of lives around him blessed with lives they never thought they could lose. It certainly would be hard to blame him for being jealous and scornful of others.
It’s hard to say if he even finds brotherhood in 707th or his team.
Memories are all that remain of his family, faded and worn like a comfort blanket for a child as they grow. He doesn’t even have the same surname anymore. Now, his life is mystified in secrets trapped in boxes that he doesn’t have some of the keys to. The memories within him which most have dissolved into thoughts of soot and smoke in the air, choking and crying. Running and hiding. And yet, he found one link to moments of quiet between the chaos. Foods linked him with his family and perhaps the few joyful experiences in his early childhood. Even through the battles, his mother would find ways to create something wonderful to eat, or some way to make meals a tranquil moment. He knows that somewhere in that memory is the face of his mother, holding him to sleep after a meal. So, he picked up cooking in an attempt to stir those memories. Each spice and flavor resonates with what little of his family remains in him lost and forgotten.
So, Vigil cooks for himself. He tries new flavors and new recipes, trying to find those tastes recontextualized on his tongue. Searching Korean markets, scouring the internet for anything, and cooking in the communal kitchen of the base. He hardly has interest in sharing, or cooking for others. It’s meant to be therapeutic for him, finding a taste that opens up those lockboxes holding his memories.
“Chul, you can cook? That’s news to me.”
Startled by the voice, he turned and saw was the bushy beard that spoke to him. Vigil turned off the stove, being just about done with the food. Blackbeard, after the same exercise as Vigil, had also decided to come to grab some food.
“I don’t expect anyone else to cook for me, or I would become too dependent on them.” Vigil said in response.
“Well, back at home my wife cooks the meals usually. I certainly prefer them over the MREs I’ve had to eat over the years. Still, I’ve never had a good chance to try real Korean food while at sea. Not something I could get at home either. I’m starved, would you mind if I had a taste?”
Reluctantly, Vigil handed him the ladle. Watching him take a sip of his concoction, it seemed like he made a mistake giving him such an access to his life, but it was too late to take back the choice.
“Dude, this is delicious. I need to try more of this stuff when I get back to the States, bring my family along with me. I bet my kids would love this stuff.
“A little experimenting combined with recipe books and some technique. I doubt it’s more than the basics, however. You should consider yourself fortunate to have a family who loves you, and your children live so comfortably.”
“Well, I serve and sacrifice so they can live that way. I look forward to always seeing them after a tour and telling them about my adventures.”
“Why sacrifice your life with a family at home? Don’t your children deserve to have a father?”
“I made a commitment to have a family, and I wouldn’t plan on abandoning them.”
That reply left Vigil in a short pause.
“Y’know, my family was never part of the military. They were all doctors and nurses and other stuff. I joined because I wanted to see the world, and serve for something greater than myself. I’ve made some of my best friends here, including Meghan. I met my wife after I had already joined, anyways. I’m still seeing new things even now, like trying new food and having experiences in new parts of the world, and I can bring them back to my family and friends at home.”
“It seems foolhardy to risk losing all that, isn’t it?” Vigil answered.
“Not at all. I can’t possibly experience the world without that bit of risk, and there’s only more value in seeing the world if I have people who want me to come back and talk about it.”
Another pause.
“Do you have anyone, Chul?”
Yet again, Vigil stayed silent.
“I’ll take that as a no. You really don’t have anyone you call a friend? Nobody?”
Vigil figured he had talked far too much for his own good. How would someone with a whole family understand his orphan nature?
“I’d be glad to talk to you. I think we already have a lot in common to discuss, and if there’s anyone I want a cooking lesson, especially in Korean food, I think you would be great.”
Vigil spat back at him. “But you have so much, and I have so little! We can’t possibly be similar at all.”
Blackbeard paused for a second as well.
“What made you want to cook? If not for others, then just yourself, right?”
Vigil stared hard into Blackbeard’s eyes. For a second, he could see Craig’s family and his life through his eyes itself. Blackbeard had no plans to let up after that outburst, Vigil could see that. More importantly, Blackbeard broke down his defenses. Was this his own doing? Had his small crack led to this? Finally, he left the lid on the pot, he sighed, and took a seat at a table, and Blackbeard joined across from him.
“My family was slaughtered attempting to seek asylum. My mother was the only one able to feed me, cook for me, and care for me. My father protected me and my mother, telling us when to run and when to stay. Neither of them found their asylum, yet I did. It cost me my childhood and my family to live, just to be spiteful and angry, and alone. What would it take to see their faces again? To have another life lesson from them, or just another meal made by my mother? That is why I cook for myself. I must keep searching for those lost faces.”
There was one last intense pause between the two of them, as Blackbeard thought about what Vigil had just poured out.
“It’s admirable. I really respect it. There’s not a lot of people who can hold in such a story, and there’s no doubt you’re a strong person. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve met, even before all that. But, it just seems like you’ve poisoned yourself holding onto it, though. Take it from me, you need someone to talk about this stuff with.
“Perhaps you are right. But you’re a different person th-.”
“Have you ever held a newborn baby? God, it’s the best feeling. It’s almost validating, knowing that you’ve been able to nurture life even this far. I cried at all my kid’s births. I think often about how their childhood will differ from mine, just because I’m out here and they’re back there. I hope they grow up to be far away from conflict and they grow up to be successful, just so that me being here made them safer. I don’t think I’m anything like you, Chul. I think we’re far apart in a lot of ways. But, I know how you must feel having been protected and sheltered and being here because your parents were out there, protecting you. I’d be glad to talk to you about all sorts of things, if it helps you feel better about everything that has happened to you.”
At some point, Vigil had stopped staring at Blackbeard’s eyes, just at the table, blankly. Closing his eyes, he heard every word and still, he was thinking about everything Craig had said. He got up and grabbed a pair of dishes to set up the table for him and Craig, brought over the pot, and prepared two meals.
“Thank you, Chul.”
They ate their meals, conversing between bites. Vigil felt better, frankly. A bit warm, in fact. He cleaned the dishes, packed the leftovers, and headed on his way back to his quarters. When he returned, he closed his eyes, laying on his bed, and sort of felt like he could see his father’s face in a way. He saw his mother in the same way too. They weren’t complete, still, but they were recognizable. The last thing he remembered before slipping away into a peaceful rest was the sounds of a lullaby, trancing him distantly like a soft voice from above.