Remember the Fallen

With the celebration of Memorial Day in the US this weekend, this story is dedicated to all the men and women who have paid the ultimate price and given their lives for America, our way of life and our freedoms.

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John didn't pay close attention to the startled stares and gazes that followed him as he silently walked down one of Atlantis' long hallways. He didn't feel one moment of embarrassment or self consciousness though he did wonder if some of the civilian contingent had never seen a military dress uniform before. Maybe, he thought, it was the seven red and blue flowers, native to Atlantis' home world, held gently in his hands that they noticed more than anything. When he'd told Dr. Peters in the botany lab what he wanted them for, she'd been more than willing to help him.

A slight smile turned up one side of his mouth as he continued on his way, weaving through people, one hand holding the flowers, the other his service hat, tucked firmly under his arm. He suspected it wouldn't take long for rumors to fly that he was dating someone… and the more gossipy members of the expedition team would be wondering who had the seven fresh flowers in their quarters… and who had turned the head of the military commander enough, to get him out of the comfortable casual clothes he preferred, and into dress blues. John moved his head slightly, stretching against the tight collar and tie. The rumor mill was right about one thing, it took a hell of a lot to get him to wear his blues...

… but this definitely qualified.

He passed a checkpoint and the Marine on watch looked him over before snapping into a straight, picture perfect salute. John had never really stood on protocols and never asked his men to salute him every time they saw him, but this time, he knew there was more to that salute than just protocols. John nodded curtly in acknowledgement, but the soldier didn't ease his stance as John passed. There was no questioning, no confusion in the soldier's eyes. It was as if he knew exactly why the base commander was walking through the halls of Atlantis in his dress uniform with flowers in his hands. The civilians may have their own theories, but John knew, without a doubt, that the Marine knew exactly what the truth was. His actions spoke louder than any words he might have said.

John entered a transporter and tapped the screen. The door slid shut and the device immediately took him to a remote location on the East Pier. Stepping out, he walked down another long hallway, with only the sound of the soles of his spit-shined shoes and the slight ruffle of his jacket sleeves against his sides, to accompany him. Stopping in front of a large, exterior door, he waved the back of his hand over the access panel, ruffling the flowers slightly. Obligingly, the door slid open. John pulled his hat out from under his arm and placed it firmly on his head as he stepped out into the sunshine. He stopped, listening to the quiet rhythm of the ocean as the doors slid shut behind him. He glanced at his watch, noting the time and nodding to himself. Taking a deep breath, he held the flowers in front of his chest as he silently walked across the long pier. The sun felt warm on his back, heralding the coming summer and part of him longed to be back in a lightweight t-shirt, but he shook off the thought.

He reached the edge and stopped close to the guardrail. Looking down, he could see the ocean lapping the side of the pier only one level below him. His gaze slowly moved back to the seven flowers in his left hand. It was an even half dozen plus one, but the odd number held its own meaning. Reaching up, he pulled the first flower free. "Mitch," he said quietly. John smiled slightly at the memory of Mitch Palmer's easy smile and infectious humor. Holding his hand over the railing, he dropped the flower and watched as it floated down to rest on the ocean's surface. He pulled the next one free. "Dex," he said, still holding his bittersweet slight smile. Memories of the pilot's antics in Afghanistan came back to John. Silly string, knotted shoe laces, all pranks worthy of a twelve year old… all pranks that made John's tour just a little easier. Opening his hand, he released the flower. John pulled another one free and this time, his smile faded completely. "Holland," he murmured. His gaze focused on the flower before growing distant. If Mitch and Dex's antics had provided comic relief, Holland's strong friendship had given him a kindred spirit and outlet for frustrations, anger and sorrow; emotions that always followed in the wake of war. John clenched his jaw, the image of Holland dying in his arms invading his thoughts. Even now, it was still fresh, still haunted him and still reminded him of the fragility of life. But that reminder of his own mortality… of the mortality of his team, made him better at his job and that gave John at least a little bit of comfort. Finally, he did smile, if very slightly. "You'd love this place, Mark," he said quietly before committing the flower to the ocean.

He pulled the next one free, the vibrant white bud within the blue flower, reminding him of a carefree, big grin. "Ford." In its own way, the death of the lieutenant was as hard as Holland's. There was no body, no certainty, no closure for any of them, especially Ford's family. John sighed deeply and released the flower.

He focused on the next one, the first of two civilians he honored; two flowers that were new additions to his rite. It felt proper to do this. Both of these flowers symbolized two people that had given their lives for Atlantis and the expedition. There was no greater sacrifice. It was bravery in its truest and noblest form; the very embodiment of what this day stood for and that transcended the boundaries between civilians and military. "Carson." He could still hear the doctor's unmistakably accented voice, loud in protest, and quiet in comfort. Carson had been steadfast in his beliefs and integrity, right until the end. John released his grip on the flower and focused on the next one… the loss it symbolized still a raw wound on his spirit.

"Elizabeth," he whispered. It was a flower he didn't want to be staring at… a flower he wanted nothing more than to deny… a flower he couldn't turn away from. He'd held hope for her survival for so long, but hearing of her death and the destruction of the Asuran home world had forced him to face the reality that she was gone… that he'd left her behind. John knew he'd had no choice with the survival of Atlantis in the balance, but it didn't change the facts… haunting facts he was still coming to grips with. Letting go, he watched as the flower fluttered down to the water.

John stared at the last flower in his hand, the one that perhaps was the most symbolic of the day. The others he had gifted to the pure waters of the ocean symbolized those close to him that had fallen, but this one… this one was everyone else. The weight of a nation's history and the lives given willingly to protect it, rested in his hands. John drew in a deep breath. "Thank you." Releasing the flower, he watched as it came to rest with the others. He looked at his watch, noted the time, stepped back and snapped his hand to the brim of his hat in salute. For a long moment he stood there, silently, before he lowered his arm and eased his stance. One, last time he looked down at the water and watched as the flowers drifted apart, floating at the mercy of the lapping waves.

As he turned back towards the city, John sent a silent wish that next year, he'd still only carry seven.

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I realize this is geared mainly towards American readers. Please humor me. I've had many relatives serve, including my own father. All of them came home after their tours of duty, but there are so many others that did not.

SGAFan

National Moment of Remembrance - In accordance with a congressional resolution passed in 2000, Americans (are asked to) pause wherever they are at 3 pm local time for a moment of silence to remember and honor the fallen.

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