A/N: In honor of all those who serve in any country, sacrificing their lives for what they believe in and care for.

And special honor to the Wounded Warriors project here at Fort Sam Houston in Texas, and all those who are in it. They have suffered a lot for our country, and I thank them from the bottom of my heart.

Never Forget

Lara Chapman was like every other little kid at Morris Hill Elementary School. She liked to color, made fun of the teachers, and played with the other children. Her life was simple and enjoyable; the Chapmans had an adequate amount of money coming into their household. Two children, including Lara, and both parents working full-time made for a normal childhood for Lara.

Though she was like every other kid at Morris Hill, she was so much different than 99% of America's kids; she was the daughter of a military officer. Her father had been in the army for several years, and worked hard to ensure his family was safe and happy. A brave and intelligent man, he taught his children valuable lessons about life and safety, and inspired both of them for the rest of their lives.

And so, Lara Chapman grew up, as happy as a military kid could. Of course, it's easy when you're younger. Yes, you have friends, but leaving them seems only temporary. However, in the teenage years she started to dread moving. But, she never had any hard feelings towards the military or her father. It was always a new experience waiting for her, new places to discover and visit.

One day, when she was sixteen, her father sat down to talk with her. He explained about the military, and answered any questions. It is your choice, he told her, but you would be doing a great thing, serving your country. Little did he know, she had already decided years earlier. She didn't know it when she was younger, but she wanted to be in the military, just like her father. She wanted to defend her country.

Soon, she applied for the military, and as soon as she graduated, Lara was off to basic training. Testing herself like she never had before, she made new friends and connections. Two years later, she met the love of her life, and married him a few years later. She was happy, and felt proud of herself. Her parents and older brother were proud too, always calling her when she was away and visiting whenever they could.

It happened on her second tour in Iraq. A bomb exploded and almost killed her and two of her friends. They were only saved by Lara pushing the others out of the way. In the process, she lost both of her legs. She was cared for and shipped back to the United States. The whole time she was numb and had no idea what was happening; she jumped at every loud noise, and was annoyed by the wheelchair she was forced to use.

Recovery was long and arduous. Lara was sent to Joint Base San Antonio, Fort Sam Houston in Texas, where they had one of the best programs for recovering Wounded Warriors. She worked and worked to get better. Her husband and young daughter were there again. She battled depression and PTSD. Eventually, things started to look up.

She would never forget her first day with her new prosthetic legs. She was so excited to try them on and get moving. Getting them on was complicated, but they managed, and her therapist wheeled her up to the "gym," which had a lot of exercise equipment in it, but also a lot of machines and stuff for physical therapy. Before they got in the room, she could hear laughter.

When they finally went through the door, the therapist wheeled her over to a corner where they would practice her walking on a double bar thing so she could support herself. On the way over there, she looked for the source of the laughter, and caught site of a young man standing next to a couple of Wounded Warriors, who were smiling and laughing at something the younger man had said. His back was to her, but he was wearing jeans and what looked like a button-up shirt, and his hair was a darkish blonde. A little bit of hair seemed to stick up above the rest. Lara had never seen him before, and he didn't look like a therapist or anything. She figured he was being treated for something a little harder to see.

Absorbed in her walking and the sheer joy of doing so for the first time in a long time, she forgot about the young man for a half-hour or so, until she heard her therapist talk to someone.

"Oh, hello sir." Lara looked up from her exercises and saw the man right in front of her, his smile huge.

"Hello Lara! I'm Alfred Jones. It's an honor to meet you." He stuck his hand out respectfully, never loosing the smile on his face.

She reached out and took his hand. He shook her hand with surprising force. She must have winced because he quickly let go. "Oh, I'm sorry! Sometimes I forget my own strength…" After assuring she was okay, he grinned and pushed up his glasses. "I come in every few months or so," He explained to her, as if sensing her curiosity. "It's always an honor to meet the soldiers who serve m - our country." His smile faded. "And you have made a large sacrifice. For that, I am truly thankful, and truly sorry." With that, Alfred Jones nodded to the therapist, and walked out of the room, leaving behind a confused and curious woman.

Lara's gut told her Alfred Jones was nobody normal. Not just anybody could visit the recovering Wounded Warriors in the recovery and training room. He wasn't a relative of anybody there. And the way he stumbled when he said "our country."

And so, she didn't find out who he was, but she never forgot. He cared about every single person at that hospital. He seemed truly sorry that they were injured. Over time, she grew less curious, and took inspiration from it.

Years later, when her father became ill, she went in to talk to him. She would talk for hours about random things she had done and gone. One day, she started talking about the day she met Alfred Jones. When she was finished with her story, her father patted her hand.

"Do you know who that was, Lara?"

She looked at him curiously. "He said his name was Alfred Jones…"

"No, no. That's not what I meant. Do you know who he really is?"

Shaking her head slowly, she wondered who Alfred Jones was. Apparently he wasn't just an average person off of the street. "Who is he, papa?"

"It's hard to explain." Her father coughed briefly. "But, he's not like us, Laurie. I met him years and years ago, when we were stationed at Fort Knox when you were three."

"B-but…" She thought hard. Alfred Jones hadn't looked any older than twenty. "That was almost thirty years ago! He was only about nineteen or twenty!"

Her father smiled and nodded. "I told you, he's not like us."

"Then…what is he?"

"When you meet him again, I want you to ask."

Her father's funeral was a blur of family members, crying, and dark colors. She hardly remembered anything from the time the hospital called with the terrible news until the funeral a few days later. They presented her mother with an American flag, and she cried gripping onto it. They said their speeches.

After the ceremony was finished Lara stood alone at her father's grave, looking at the freshly piled dirt and shiny stone that rested at the head of it. Wildflowers grew around, bending slightly with the fresh breeze that made Lara's hair tickle her cheeks. Eventually she lost track of time, just standing there, then sitting, and thinking.

"He was a brave man. A real hero."

Startled, Lara turned around quickly. It took her a minute to realize who was standing in front of her in a dark suit and a somber look on his face. It was Alfred Jones.

"I-why are you here?" She stammered, then gasped when she realized what she said. "I'm sorry! That was so rude! I just thought I'd never see you again."

He gave her a small smile. "It's alright. I only met your father briefly a few years ago." He set a blue flower down on the grave.

"Like, thirty?" She said carefully, watching his reaction. He just nodded.

"Thirty-four, to be exact. Fort Knox," He stared off into the distance, as if recalling details. "He was receiving a promotion and a few awards. The president came." He turned back to her. "You have questions, so ask me!"

"Well, um…you say thirty-four years, but you only look about twenty. And you haven't changed since last time I met you either, and it's been years since then!"

"Now you get to it!" He said cheerfully and stuck out a hand to her. "It's an honor to meet you, Lara Chapman. My name is America, known to most as Alfred Jones."

She shook his hand, raising an eyebrow. "America?"

"Well," He let go of her hand and tapped his chin. "I'm more 'officially' known as the United States of America." He laughed at her disbelieving expression. "It's okay! But I've been here since this place became a country!" His expression grew more wary as he glanced down at her father's grave. "And I feel the pain every single time one of my people come back from the war."

Suddenly Lara knew he was telling the truth. There was something in his eyes that seemed older than twenty or so years. Something she couldn't see, but could feel.

"Until next time, Lara Chapman."

She never did meet him face-to-face again, but heard about him again and again, seeing him with the president on television or at various military functions. Sometimes he would be walking around Fort Sam Houston, talking to Wounded Warriors or other citizens.

And so, Lara Chapman never forgot Alfred Jones.

Never forget

A/N: The ending doesn't do anything justice, so I apologize. I hope you enjoyed it. I took some liberties with the recovery program because I'm not exactly sure how they work.

Inspired by the link on my profile page under "Never Forget Inspiration Link". It's really interesting, you should check it out.

Thanks for reading!

Edit (9 August, 2014): I just freaking realized that America put a blue flower on the grave. Gives me Davie feels. Personal headcanon: it's the same blue flowers he wanted to give to Davie. As if I need to make this story more heartbreaking.