The grave seemed to stare back up at him somehow, as if declaring a
hollow victory. The grey stone was lifeless, the words etched into it
providing no real use besides telling others that another human being had
died. Bunches of flowers resided at the foot of the grave, fluttering
slightly in the mid-afternoon breeze. The newly disturbed earth had been
packed down tight, and the figure stood to the side of it slightly, his
long black coat blowing about his legs like a shroud of misery. A single
tear fell to the ground below.
He had failed. After all he had been through, he had let this happen... let his dear stepfather die. The man had given him so much in his life, and after all of that, his adopted son had failed in his one attempt to save him.
Bray had meant everything to him. The whole world had mattered less than this old man's life. The kidney had been rejected... he remembered Bray telling him, and how everything had seemed to crash down around him as a result.
His loving wife Shana had tried desperately to comfort him through this difficult time, only to be turned down in her efforts. He had been unresponsive to her attempts, and she had taken that as a sign to leave him alone to mourn, and deal with the loss in his own time.
The others at the station had all attended the funeral, which had been over for nearly a whole hour now. O'Neill and Carter had stayed behind for a while trying to persuade him to attend the wake. He had not said a word, so they had left without him, Probie and all.
The young fireman had just looked at him in that certain way that told him he was there when the large man wanted him, and that he could talk whenever he needed to. He had nodded his thanks, and dismissed him silently.
T was less than bothered when rain started to fall gently all around him, rolling down his face, masking the tears that tumbled from his eyes. He began to feel the bite of the cold, and he wrapped his overcoat around him tighter, and ran a gloved hand over his bald head, whipping off the droplets of rain that had settled there, only to be replaced by more immediately.
What are you doing? The question popped up in his troubled head before he could silence it. Bray would want you to be with the others... helping them like they've tried to help you. They feel the loss too, and it hurts them just as much.
Staring at the name etched in to the bland stone, T sighed heavily. He turned reluctantly, and walked away from the graveside, footfalls heavy with remorse. He had reached his car before too long, and was climbing inside silently when a flash of lightning brightened the dark sky.
T looked up at it as it streaked across the heavens, and then slammed the door to his vehicle. Feeling the engine roar into life when he turned the key, he pressed his foot down on the accelerator, and drove away.
* * *
All heads turned in his direction when he stepped through the door, dripping from head to toe, even though he had been sitting in a car for near on ten minutes. He looked a little bit of a mess standing there, at the doorway to his own house, his friends staring at him in surprise.
Apparently, the wake had started without him, as he had wanted it to. He recognised all the faces, and let out a sigh. There was no escaping them now. Why had he decided to come home?
A beautiful woman strode up to him, and stood looking up at him below the steps leading up to the doorway.
"T," she said quietly, glancing over her shoulder briefly, and then turning her gaze back on him lovingly, "come inside and close the door."
He took one step, and swung the door gently behind him, hearing it close with a click.
One by one, people looked away, turning back to their conversations or musings. A fire roared in the wall, the logs burning welcomingly to provide warmth and a gentle glow in the large living room.
T stepped down into the sunken room, and looked into the eyes of his wife.
She smiled sorrowfully, and touched his face softly, her fingers warm. "I wondered where you were. I thought you weren't coming back."
"No," he replied, voice equally quiet, fighting to stay below the soft music that played elegantly in the room, "I just had some thinking to do."
She nodded in understanding, and gave him a light kiss. "Go and change out of those wet clothes," she advised, stripping his overcoat from his large frame. "And then you can greet your guests. I know it's hard, but they're here to help you, my love."
Silently, T moved to the staircase that led up to the second level in the large house, and climbed without looking back.
He was soon in his bedroom, changing out of his soaked clothing, and into a dry set Shana had set out for him. He was pulling on the tight shirt when his door opened, and a figure entered.
"Hey, how ya' doing?"
T looked into the sincere gaze of Fire Chief Jack O'Neill, beer in hand. From the looks of it, he hadn't even sampled the alcohol, and it seemed he didn't intend to. It was just for show.
With a lazy exhalation, T sat himself heavily on the edge of the king- size bed, and responded, "Not so good."
O'Neill closed the door slowly, and said, "I know. I thought as much. That's why I'm here." He paused, taking in the man sitting before him. "There are a lot of people down there who expect you to be strong, and I know from experience that that's not as easy as it looks."
T locked gazes with the Chief, and frowned. "Well, I don't know what I'm gonna do. I don't think I can face all those people."
"Sure you can," O'Neill insisted, "you're the strongest person I know, T. You know that as well. Hell, you scare me sometimes with the things you can bear. I know this is different, but you still have to put on the brave face, and go down there eventually... sooner rather than later."
After a moment of silence, O'Neill quietly added, "This is how Bray would have wanted it."
T stood from the bed, O'Neill's words fresh in his mind, and walked over to his friend. He laid a hand on his shoulder, and forced a smile of gratitude.
With a nod, O'Neill opened the door, letting the taller man out, and following after him.
Descending the stairs with O'Neill in tow, T watched as all eyes turned to regard him, smiles of friendship and understanding waiting for him. Finishing his climb into the living room he started to welcome people the best way he knew how... with a firm handshake and a smile.
One of the last figures he came across was Captain Samantha Carter, and she reached out her arms to embrace him, something he moved into willingly, feeling her arms close about him, as he wrapped his own around her in response.
"We all miss him, T," she whispered into his ear, and he nodded softly in response.
He pulled out slowly, and smiled. "Thanks for your support, Sam."
"Anytime."
* * *
The wake continued pretty much as any normal wake should, and people gradually started to give their last respects to Bray in front of all present, standing before them at the head of the living room whilst the others seated themselves wherever they could.
Before long, it appeared that all but T had taken their turn, and Shana looked to him lovingly, giving him a smile, and stroking a hand down his arm gently in encouragement.
Clearing his throat, T stood from the couch, and moved to the head of the room, gathering all attention immediately.
"Bray took me in when I was young," he began, not knowing what to do with his hands, and resorting to shoving them into his pockets, "and raised me as his own. It was then that I realised I wanted to be just like him, and so, I joined the fire brigade. Bray trained me to save others for years, and had always raised me to believe that all life is precious... no matter what. You go in there, you risk your own ass, and you get the job done... that was his principle. And I've stuck to that belief all my life."
He paused, taking in the people in the room, who listened intently.
"And not so long ago, Bray fell ill. It terrified me to think that I might lose the man who had become my father, the man who had raised me in such a way that my whole way of life changed drastically for the better." He paused again, letting out a sigh, before continuing, "And I did my best to try and help. But even after the transplant, Bray still died. There was nothing any of us could do about that... I realise that now."
Thinking for a moment, T furrowed his brow. "Not so long ago, whilst he was in the hospital, Bray told me he was ready to die... and that he wasn't afraid. He said... he said that in trying to keep him alive, we might be keeping him from a better place."
He raised his voice to finish his speech, "And I hope Bray has found the peace he was looking for all these years."
T took a glass from the mantle behind him, and held it aloft. "To Bray."
He had failed. After all he had been through, he had let this happen... let his dear stepfather die. The man had given him so much in his life, and after all of that, his adopted son had failed in his one attempt to save him.
Bray had meant everything to him. The whole world had mattered less than this old man's life. The kidney had been rejected... he remembered Bray telling him, and how everything had seemed to crash down around him as a result.
His loving wife Shana had tried desperately to comfort him through this difficult time, only to be turned down in her efforts. He had been unresponsive to her attempts, and she had taken that as a sign to leave him alone to mourn, and deal with the loss in his own time.
The others at the station had all attended the funeral, which had been over for nearly a whole hour now. O'Neill and Carter had stayed behind for a while trying to persuade him to attend the wake. He had not said a word, so they had left without him, Probie and all.
The young fireman had just looked at him in that certain way that told him he was there when the large man wanted him, and that he could talk whenever he needed to. He had nodded his thanks, and dismissed him silently.
T was less than bothered when rain started to fall gently all around him, rolling down his face, masking the tears that tumbled from his eyes. He began to feel the bite of the cold, and he wrapped his overcoat around him tighter, and ran a gloved hand over his bald head, whipping off the droplets of rain that had settled there, only to be replaced by more immediately.
What are you doing? The question popped up in his troubled head before he could silence it. Bray would want you to be with the others... helping them like they've tried to help you. They feel the loss too, and it hurts them just as much.
Staring at the name etched in to the bland stone, T sighed heavily. He turned reluctantly, and walked away from the graveside, footfalls heavy with remorse. He had reached his car before too long, and was climbing inside silently when a flash of lightning brightened the dark sky.
T looked up at it as it streaked across the heavens, and then slammed the door to his vehicle. Feeling the engine roar into life when he turned the key, he pressed his foot down on the accelerator, and drove away.
* * *
All heads turned in his direction when he stepped through the door, dripping from head to toe, even though he had been sitting in a car for near on ten minutes. He looked a little bit of a mess standing there, at the doorway to his own house, his friends staring at him in surprise.
Apparently, the wake had started without him, as he had wanted it to. He recognised all the faces, and let out a sigh. There was no escaping them now. Why had he decided to come home?
A beautiful woman strode up to him, and stood looking up at him below the steps leading up to the doorway.
"T," she said quietly, glancing over her shoulder briefly, and then turning her gaze back on him lovingly, "come inside and close the door."
He took one step, and swung the door gently behind him, hearing it close with a click.
One by one, people looked away, turning back to their conversations or musings. A fire roared in the wall, the logs burning welcomingly to provide warmth and a gentle glow in the large living room.
T stepped down into the sunken room, and looked into the eyes of his wife.
She smiled sorrowfully, and touched his face softly, her fingers warm. "I wondered where you were. I thought you weren't coming back."
"No," he replied, voice equally quiet, fighting to stay below the soft music that played elegantly in the room, "I just had some thinking to do."
She nodded in understanding, and gave him a light kiss. "Go and change out of those wet clothes," she advised, stripping his overcoat from his large frame. "And then you can greet your guests. I know it's hard, but they're here to help you, my love."
Silently, T moved to the staircase that led up to the second level in the large house, and climbed without looking back.
He was soon in his bedroom, changing out of his soaked clothing, and into a dry set Shana had set out for him. He was pulling on the tight shirt when his door opened, and a figure entered.
"Hey, how ya' doing?"
T looked into the sincere gaze of Fire Chief Jack O'Neill, beer in hand. From the looks of it, he hadn't even sampled the alcohol, and it seemed he didn't intend to. It was just for show.
With a lazy exhalation, T sat himself heavily on the edge of the king- size bed, and responded, "Not so good."
O'Neill closed the door slowly, and said, "I know. I thought as much. That's why I'm here." He paused, taking in the man sitting before him. "There are a lot of people down there who expect you to be strong, and I know from experience that that's not as easy as it looks."
T locked gazes with the Chief, and frowned. "Well, I don't know what I'm gonna do. I don't think I can face all those people."
"Sure you can," O'Neill insisted, "you're the strongest person I know, T. You know that as well. Hell, you scare me sometimes with the things you can bear. I know this is different, but you still have to put on the brave face, and go down there eventually... sooner rather than later."
After a moment of silence, O'Neill quietly added, "This is how Bray would have wanted it."
T stood from the bed, O'Neill's words fresh in his mind, and walked over to his friend. He laid a hand on his shoulder, and forced a smile of gratitude.
With a nod, O'Neill opened the door, letting the taller man out, and following after him.
Descending the stairs with O'Neill in tow, T watched as all eyes turned to regard him, smiles of friendship and understanding waiting for him. Finishing his climb into the living room he started to welcome people the best way he knew how... with a firm handshake and a smile.
One of the last figures he came across was Captain Samantha Carter, and she reached out her arms to embrace him, something he moved into willingly, feeling her arms close about him, as he wrapped his own around her in response.
"We all miss him, T," she whispered into his ear, and he nodded softly in response.
He pulled out slowly, and smiled. "Thanks for your support, Sam."
"Anytime."
* * *
The wake continued pretty much as any normal wake should, and people gradually started to give their last respects to Bray in front of all present, standing before them at the head of the living room whilst the others seated themselves wherever they could.
Before long, it appeared that all but T had taken their turn, and Shana looked to him lovingly, giving him a smile, and stroking a hand down his arm gently in encouragement.
Clearing his throat, T stood from the couch, and moved to the head of the room, gathering all attention immediately.
"Bray took me in when I was young," he began, not knowing what to do with his hands, and resorting to shoving them into his pockets, "and raised me as his own. It was then that I realised I wanted to be just like him, and so, I joined the fire brigade. Bray trained me to save others for years, and had always raised me to believe that all life is precious... no matter what. You go in there, you risk your own ass, and you get the job done... that was his principle. And I've stuck to that belief all my life."
He paused, taking in the people in the room, who listened intently.
"And not so long ago, Bray fell ill. It terrified me to think that I might lose the man who had become my father, the man who had raised me in such a way that my whole way of life changed drastically for the better." He paused again, letting out a sigh, before continuing, "And I did my best to try and help. But even after the transplant, Bray still died. There was nothing any of us could do about that... I realise that now."
Thinking for a moment, T furrowed his brow. "Not so long ago, whilst he was in the hospital, Bray told me he was ready to die... and that he wasn't afraid. He said... he said that in trying to keep him alive, we might be keeping him from a better place."
He raised his voice to finish his speech, "And I hope Bray has found the peace he was looking for all these years."
T took a glass from the mantle behind him, and held it aloft. "To Bray."