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This place is all too familiar of a place, Northampton thinks. There are countless graves here - many of them without bodies to fill them. Memorials to those who died. The war is over - but it cost too much. Far too much.
The heavy cruiser sighs, shaking her head. If only she could have changed things. But now, she's here and the past is set in stone.
She finds the path. It's a simple affair, made of a whitish, chalky dirt. The grass around it is lush and vibrant - ironic, given what this hill is. In a way, Northampton thinks it's a hallowed place. Even if the dead do not rest here, the graveyard is heavy with memories.
Today, like always, Northampton walks towards the hill. Three people are buried there - three important people. There are more graves there, of course, but it's only these three that she's interested in.
The oak tree that towers at the base of the hill is already starting to turn yellow. There's a crisp breeze. The anniversaries of her sisters' deaths have passed, but that of her best friend's death is swiftly approaching. Northampton feels regret worming up from her gut, creeping back into her brain. She grits her teeth, and picks up her pace.
The ancient oak behind her, Northampton can make out the graves now. Her sisters' are lower on the hill, so she stops there first.
Chicago was always a tease. She giggled and batted her eyes at the officers - at the other kansen, too. Northampton misses it. It drove her up a wall, but that was when Chicago was alive and they could talk to each other freely. She remembers Chicago in other ways too - her sister was quite willing to help others. She was the best of them when it came to comforting people- she dropped the teasing. Fell serious. (Even if, perhaps, Chicago had never been the best fleet leader - she got lost in all the delegation.)
Northampton's fingers brush over her sister's headstone. It's a plain headstone - in the end, Northampton couldn't bring herself to detail Chicago's headstone. It felt better this way. The tawny-skinned heavy cruiser's lips curve a bit, into a sorrowful smile. (It was funny, how all her sisters had such pink skin when Northampton looked back on it.)
Next to Chicago was Houston - their youngest sister. Houston might have been all over the place, but she didn't back down. She loved playing, wondering, moving - living. A breath catches in Northampton's throat. Houston had never sat still, never been one to always think things through. Houston's arms and legs moved even when she was sitting. After all this time, it's still too quiet without someone talking animatedly. Someone had carved a rocket into Houston's headstone, Northampton notices. She doesn't know who - but it's fitting, the cruiser thinks. Houston would've been so excited about the rockets when they started launching them.
She shakes her head. Houston wasn't the type for sadness. Houston didn't have time for it, even accounting for her usual absentmindness. She hadn't ever been that serious, really - a sharp contrast to the eldest sister, Northampton herself.
Hornet's grave is further up the hill. From here, Northampton can see it - it looks like someone had left a cowboy hat there, the same kind as Hornet used to wear.
That brings back memories. Northampton shakes her head again. Focus. She can reminisce when she gets there.
For now, she walks away from her sisters' graves, though she pauses before she goes.
"I'll see you again," Northampton says. She would, every few months. The next time - January, bitter winter. But for now it is brisk autumn, and the heavy cruiser sets off, up the hill.
It's not long at all before she gets there. Northampton knows Enterprise had been the one to leave the hat - it was always something the silver-haired carrier did. Aside from the cap, Hornet's gravestone was even more nondescript than Chicago's. (For all her energy, Hornet had ultimately been simple - casual in her manner. She probably wouldn't have wanted an elaborate tomb.) Northampton crouches, reaching out to the black-and-yellow hat. Like Houston, Hornet had been perpetually full of life once upon a time.
The war changed that.
Unbidden, memories of Hornet's dying breaths flood back. Northampton remembers Hornet trying futilely to stand, to fight back. She remembers the blood, and the feeling of Hornet fading in her arms. She remembers a weak laugh, a husky voice assuring Northampton that she'd be fine.
No, Northampton doesn't want to remember Hornet that way. She casts further back into her memories, instead.
The first time she met Hornet was when she'd just been assigned to a new base. Hornet had volunteered to show her around, talking her ears off in the process. (Hornet was always chatty, wasn't she?) Of course, the carrier had introduced her to her sisters - before offering to give Northampton a hand if she needed one. She'd needed it when her sisters came to that base, and Hornet had made good on her promise.
Northampton wasn't entirely sure exactly when they became friends. Maybe it was that one time Hornet had helped her with getting Houston adjusted to the new base. (She'd learned from Hornet, that day, that Hornet also had a sister who ticked differently.) Maybe it was that time they'd been assigned as partners in an exercise. They'd both been equally paint-splattered by the end, but Hornet was grinning and even Northampton couldn't help but smile - they'd managed to tag Washington out, working together.
Northampton remembers how much they'd done together. It'd started with a game invitation one time, talking about their favourite radio shows another time. They listened to baseball on the radio together. Another time, they went off the base to go bowling. They talked, too - the carrier often dominated the conversation, but Northampton didn't mind. She wasn't as much of a talker. Yes, Northampton thinks, she has many fond memories from those days.
She blinks, and realises her cheeks are wet. Her fingers brush over the familiar hat again. If only she could have saved Hornet. Perhaps they'd have celebrated the end of the war together - more quietly, given all the losses, but still together.
"... I don't regret meeting you, Hornet - I can't ever regret that. If I didn't meet you, I wouldn't cry over you. I wouldn't remember you," Northampton says quietly. She thinks she's saying this more to put herself at ease.
There's a rustling. A leaf flutters by. Northampton imagines she feels Hornet's presence for a split second - feels her warmth, her life. The cruiser blinks, and the moment is over.
(In her mind's eye, Hornet is always grinning.)