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"I keep thinking about that bandit I hit today."
Tasha spoke up unexpectedly, not being able to contain her thoughts. Despite being sat next to Coster, her words weren't directed to anyone in particular. Quiet filled the atmosphere before the sound of Coster's guitar being gently plucked returned. Tasha interpreted the brief moment of silence as her wingman's unique way of telling her that he's listening.
"You know damn well I don't want to fire any missiles. I don't like it." Tasha hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them. She glanced at Coster for a brief second before returning her gaze to the planes parked in front of them. "Ray did say it's gonna get violent so… I guess I just need to get used to it."
Despite resting her eyes shut, Tasha knew she wouldn't be able to relax all too well. Operation Gut Shot had dug deep into the night, and by the time Joker Flight returned to base, the sun was already greeting them. After previous failed attempts to try and catch any sleep at all, Tasha ended up wandering outside, wanting fresh air to help clear her mind. She had made her way to a hangar to lounge around and kill some time when she found Coster sitting on the side with his guitar in hand. Tasha didn't say anything as she joined him, sitting next to him as he meekly played at the strings of his precious guitar. She wondered if he had managed to get some sleep, but didn't bring it up.
"Maybe I just need to get myself together…" Tasha mumbled as she continued. Conversations with Coster were like that sometimes: as if talking to a wall. However, there were times when Tasha appreciated the opportunity to get thoughts off her chest without the listener trying to add their own input. Coster was a good listener. "I just want to fly without having to fight again."
Exhaling deeply, Tasha began swaying to the gentle tunes Coster was playing. The guitar wasn't plugged into an amp, which seemed to make the music more comforting - the raw sounds of the strings embracing her like a warm hug. Calls and shouts of ground crew were heard in the distance, but neither of them paid attention, wanting to enjoy the music as they sat together. Tasha caught herself glancing at Coster again, observing him as he was fully entranced by his guitar. She looked away when she realised her glance had turn into a stare.
"I would do it again for you, you know." Tasha muttered.
She knew Coster had heard her as the music stopped once again. There was a brief moment of silence, as if Coster was trying to find the right words to say.
"Tasha…"
"But don't do what you did. Keep yourself alive. So I don't have to."
"Right."
Upon feeling her cheeks warm up slightly, Tasha buried her face in her knees. The music returned as Coster played a slower melody. Neither said anything for a while, but they both shared the same thoughts - thoughts of their previous sortie.
It was concluded that the second retaking of Theve had been a success. The Sotoan HQ had been captured; Theve belonged to the FCU once again. And while the two were happy for the victory, some troubled thoughts still lingered. Tasha kept thinking about how she had splashed a Shadow, going against her pledge to not shoot anyone down. When she saw the Shadow chasing after Coster, Tasha didn't think twice before leaving formation to cover him - ironic, given that he was her wingman. Deep down, despite feeling a little ashamed, Tasha didn't regret her decision. She didn't want to imagine what the outcome could've if she didn't shoot the Shadow.
"When we got back, Baxter gave me an earful for breaking formation." Coster's speech was slow, as if thinking through each word he was saying, almost hesitant. "I just… didn't think things through. Back in Theve, I…"
Tasha didn't expect Coster to talk about the operation. She didn't say anything, wanting to give space for Coster to speak his mind, but shuffled to sit slightly closer to him as a sign of comfort.
"I panicked. I don't know why, but I did."
Coster, too, was dwelling on the sortie. He recalled how it became very tense very quickly. Perhaps it was tiredness, or perhaps it was the sound of allied troops falling from every angle. Panic. Coster forgot the last time he felt so panicked. It was panic that made him break formation, ignore what Baxter was saying, and act on his own accord. He was scrambling at any possibility to prevent any more allied losses. Admittedly, Coster knew he hadn't been thinking reasonably whilst in the air. He didn't want to confess it to anyone, but he knew from his actions during the operation that it was obvious. Luckily for him, nobody brought it up. Truth be told, Coster never felt a need to bring up these sort of things - until now, sat with Tasha.
"It's okay, Coster. The mission was a success. We all made it back safe."
"Purple Magic didn't."
Silence followed Coster's words. Silence that filled the atmosphere with discomfort, silence that hurt. In a span of less than two months, Coster had both met his idols and heard them helplessly fall victim to the Sotoan land battleship over comms. Music was important to Coster - something that brought him life. Purple Magic was part of that; it wasn't a secret that Coster was a huge fan of the band, playing their CDs during missions, knowing every achievement of their career. The death of Purple Magic was like taking away a part of him. Tasha watched Coster clench his fist as she tried to find words of comfort to say.
"Coster…"
"'If only the Wings of Theve had been here.'" The final words of Purple Magic 2 before crashing into the land battleship. Words that had been haunting Coster since they were transmitted over the radio. If only Wings had been at White Valley. If only Joker Flight had been there to help Purple Magic fight the land battleship. Maybe Purple Magic would still be alive.
"Coster, there was nothing more we could have done."
"I know." He replied with a sigh. "In that moment, we couldn't. But if there's another sortie like this one, I can't let the same thing happen."
With those words, it became clear to Tasha that Coster was beating himself up for the losses during the operation. Ground units. The landing force. Purple Magic. The cries that were heard over the radio as they met their fate. Hearing the pain in their pleads could've made anyone feel helpless. In that moment, Coster wanted so badly to support anyone. But Tasha was right - there was nothing more they could've done. Though the operation was a success, it left him feeling destroyed. It was an emotion Tasha had never seen from him before; Coster was undeniably an introvert, keeping both thoughts and words to himself as if he built a wall to keep everyone out. Sitting next to Tasha, it was like the wall was non-existent - next to Tasha, there was a blanket of comfort that let Coster speak his thoughts freely.
"If I don't protect those important to me..."
Suddenly, Coster felt the weight of something on his shoulder. Slowly, gently, he turned his head to set his gaze on Tasha, who rested her head on his shoulder. He didn't notice when she moved closer to him, close enough for their sides to touch; he was so lost in his spiralling thoughts that the surroundings had disappeared to him.
"You're not always going to be able to protect everyone. It's not fair, I know. But it's what's true." Tasha spoke softly. "You've protected me though. Thank you."
Protecting Tasha. 'Protecting her is my duty!'. Coster thought about how he blurted that out during the sortie for everyone on the radio to hear. It might've been another one of those irrational actions he did without thinking properly, but it also wasn't completely untrue. As Tasha's wingman, Coster was tasked with watching her six, keeping her safe, protecting her. Over time, it had become second nature to him without him even noticing. With Tasha next to him, he promised to himself that he would never leave her side. He couldn't risk losing what's important to him again.
Coster took his gaze off the top of Tasha's head as he shifted his body ever so slightly, lowering his shoulder to make Tasha more comfortable. He lifted his hand, considered pulling her into a hug, but dropped the thought. No more words were exchanged, no more words were needed; being in each other's presence was consoling. Neither of them kept track of the time in a desire to let the feeling of comfort last forever. To let them remain in each other's comfort forever.