The door to the room of Ferdinand Wilkins Jr. was closed, as it had been before he had left on what would come to be his last mission, and as it had been afterwards, after the knowledge that the room would never again be occupied by Ferdinand Wilkins Jr had come to light. It had not yet been opened by anyone in particular, least of all Gale Gentry, but he knew it would have to be done eventually.

He was not sure he could bring himself to do it.

Time passed as though in slow motion. Sometimes, when he was left alone - which was rarer than he intended, considering that Eva and Wilson and sometimes Candace would drop by to make sure that he was sleeping and eating properly (he wasn't), or that he wasn't spending too much time in bed (he was) - Gale's thoughts drifted back up to that room that had been next to his

He remembered the first time he had seen Bix outside of a mission.


"Dorms kind of suck... right?"

"Alright who am I kidding.. I am pretty terrible. I mean we all are but...so much FAIL."

"Sure.. let's do it. Train I mean. Not do it.. jeeeezus...ignore me."

"So.. maybe it's taboo or whatever. I don't know. Where are you from and what made you come here?"

"I came here to make some sort of difference to someone. Try to help people who need help."

"It is kind of weird. I never thought I would go through with anything like this but here I am. Maybe the reality of it hasn't sunk in but I kind of like it here so far."

"Maybe once we get some real life monsters up in our faces we'll change our minds."


Gale wasn't sure whether or not Bix had changed his mind since then. Maybe, maybe not. Maybe, after dealing with some "real life monsters," he had discovered that being a hunter wasn't all it was cracked up to be. But if it hadn't, Bix had never let it get him down. It was only now, after his death, that Gale realized just how strong Bix had been in life.

He stood at the door to the albino's room and hesitated, one hand reached out towards the handle of the door, but he couldn't quite bring himself to open it yet. He wished, for the hundredth time that day, that he had Jinhai in his head so that he would have that reassuring voice in his head, a small source of comfort in this nightmare he could not crawl out of.

But the voice of the dragon was gone, and Gale was left alone to his pain.

He remembered the first time they had sparred together.


"C'mon! We're not going to get real training from stationary dummies! We're marksman. We have to hit moving targets."

"Bring it! I dare ya!!"

"Awwww snap. . C'mon Gale! Get mad or.. something."

"You could have shot me. I feel bad now.."

"HOW AWESOME WAS THAT FIGHT?! Race you back to the dorms!"


Bix had kicked his arse from here to London, but he had grinned the whole way through and tried to joke Gale out of his mutinous look. There was rarely a time in which Gale could not go to Bix, could not look to the older hunter for inspiration, for guidance, for a friend that would never judge him on his age or his height or what he looked like.

The hole in his heart widened.

Clenching his jaw together, Gale forced himself to rest his hand on the doorknob to Bix's room, and with more effort than he knew he had, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The room was exactly the same as Bix had left it. The curtains were drawn over the little window, the bed was rumpled and only half made, as though he had climbed out of it and forgotten to put the sheets back where they belonged, but everything else was neat and tidy, extremely organized for someone so ridiculous. There were action figures stacked here and there, on various shelves and on the desk and the headboard behind the bed. Stacks of comic books were in the closet, organized by title, which contained a variety of teeshirts, all with silly things printed on the front of them.

It looked like Bix. Gale felt himself sinking deeper into despair. He made himself walk further into the room, dropping his fingers away from the doorknob.

On the top of Bix's desk was a small shelf, containing an assortment of Lord of the Rings figurines. Gale reached out slowly, hesitantly, his hand wrapping around the minute form of Gimli, the dwarf, and pulling it down, leaving a tiny little imprint in the dust that had accumulated.


"It's easy for you to say," Gale had burst out suddenly, the frustration that had been building up over the course of several months finally spilling out. He took a halfhearted swing at the other, but only grazed Bix's shoulder. "You're the same age as everyone else, you don't have to constantly try and prove that you deserve to be here as much as everyone else. People like you, they see you as an equal - but it's different when every step you take is seen as one of a kid."

He had been embarrassed. Why was he saying this to Bix?

But Bix had not laughed at him, or turned him away, or pretended not to hear.

"Hey.. hold on a second. First of all you don't have to constantly prove anything to anyone. If you are doing it for yourself, that's one thing but don't you think for a second that your skills need to be justified."

He had stepped closer, taken him by the shoulder, looking into his eyes.

"No one that matters thinks you are a kid. We have a little team thing going on. You proved yourself out there in that battle with .. Red.. Aria.. whatever. I was blind and you were nailing that thing with bullets.

"You proved yourself. Just getting here means you are worthy. They gave you a free gun. You are how old? And someone gave you a GUN. Obviously you can be trusted with it."


Gale dropped the figurine back into its spot, carefully arranging it so it was exactly like it had been before, his hear thumping against his chest. He stepped back away from the desk, wanting to get out of the room, wanting to leave all of this the way it was because it could not be true that Bix was dead, it wasn't true, it was never going to be true...

Something on the desk caught Gale's eye - a single sheet of white paper, a pen lying beside it as though the writer had left mid-sentence. Unsure of whether or not he wanted to read it, Gale took a step towards it, hesitant and anxious. Swallowing hard, he reached out and slipped the paper towards him, holding it up to read it.


I feel really stupid and maybe this is morbid, but when you spend a lot of time by yourself, things like this happen.

My name is Ferdinand Wilkins Jr. but here at Deus I go by Bix. I'm 22 years old and I recently got promoted to be an official Sun Division hunter.

Whoever is reading this probably already knows that, since I'm going to leave this note on my desk, but I figured the formality is necessary...


And on it went, Gale's fingers were shaking so badly that he could scarcely hold the paper in his hand. He wanted to put the paper down, to stop reading, but he couldn't, his eyes kept moving, reading each word, each sentence, until a familiar name appeared among the messy handwriting:


Gale - Lighten up. Don't rage. Don't ruin your youth with broodiness and anger. You're an amazing man.. yeah a man. You've got resolve and discipline and strength that a lot of us don't have. I could have never made the choice to come here at your age. You have promise. Also.. use your british accent to get some chicks already. JEEZUS. Please keep my LotR books. And figures. Take care of them.


The tears were stinging at the corners of his eyes now, and Gale gave a wordless gasp, a half strangled sobbing sound, which might have been a laugh, but which also might have been a sob.

At the end of the letter - which wasn't really a letter - he set it back down, exactly where it had been, and stood in the middle of the room that had once belonged to Bix, his best friend, his first friend, the only person who had ever made him feel good about himself without even trying, the person who had never judged him, who had never treated him with disrespect, who had acted as a big brother when Gale had not had anyone to turn to.

His legs gave way beneath him, and Gale collapsed to his knees on the white carpet, his hands over his face as the tears began to fall, the shuddering sobs wracking his body, the realization that Bix was truly gone sinking into his body, into his thoughts, into his very heart and soul. And as he knelt there, overcome with a grief so black it felt like he was drowning in tar, he shook his head, over and over again.

"Bix, you idiot."