No Balm for Grief
By: Hotaru

Notes: I'm finally writing something angsty and without a happy ending. ^_~ We'll see how it goes.

Why does it seem like the weather is always gloomy at funerals? Is it God's way of telling you that he feels your pain? Or is it just a natural phenomenon that causes you to feel even worse about the situation? Then again, even if it was bright and sunny, your feelings wouldn't change. Nothing can change you when you're burying seven of your comrades.

The family members all agreed that a joint funeral would be best. Everyone worked together, their families knew each other from picnics, and holiday parties. They would probably not be getting together anymore, so they might as well do it to say goodbye.

I looked at myself one last time in the mirror as I loosened my pearl earrings. Picking a cat hair from my black sleeve, I sighed. I was just delaying the inevitable. They were all gone, and everyone was waiting for me. Stuffing a few tissues in my purse, I looked in the mirror one last time, before leaving my bedroom.

"You ready?" He asked, looking quite handsome in his black suit and tie. He doesn't look his age. I still can't believe he is two years older than I am.

"I don't think I was ever ready for this." I answer him, coming down the stairs. "But we better get going. Is it raining?"

"No, not yet. Bring your umbrella, anyway. I called the cemetary, and they said they set up a canopy, but you wouldn't want to mess up your hair and make up since you spent so long on it." He was trying to cheer me up. I pull on my coat and open the front door.

"I figured I should look nice." I reply dully.

We remain silent as we walk to his car. He opens the door for me, like a gentleman. Glancing up at the gray sky, I frown. Storm clouds were moving swiftly towards us.

"Come on, Jill. We're gonna be late." He says, turning the car on. I sit down in the passenger seat, and close the door.

"Sorry. I was just thinking. Do you have your speech?"

"Yeah. I was going over it while you were getting ready."

The drive to the cemetary was quiet. Rain began to lightly fall, splashing on the windshield before being smeared away by the wipers. A miserable day.

After greeting their aquaintances, and giving condolences, the mourners sat underneath a snow white canopy in chairs covered with white slips. A pastor stood in front of a podium with a Bible laying open. Behind him were seven newly dug graves, with seven newly chiseled headstones. "We are all here today...to say good bye to seven of our beloved friends. Co-workers, fighters, heroes. We never really know why the good Lord takes our loved ones away from us, but in order to move on, we must keep our faith, and believe that God has a reason for them to be in his kingdom of Heaven." He began. A woman dressed in black, as they all were sobbed loudly, before covering her mouth with her hand. Another woman beside her pulled her into a hug. The pastor smiled kindly.

"You must believe, my children, that God does not want to hurt you. He felt that the lives of these men were finished here, and that they were needed in Heaven. It is not without reason, that they were taken from us. Before we let the families speak, I would like to read to you, Psalm 23." He said, pausing.

Everyone bowed their heads, and closed their eyes. The pastor took a breath, and began. "The Lord is my Shepard, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for the sake of His name. Even when I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You have set a table for me in the presence of my enemies. You have anointed my head with oil, my cup overflows. Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Amen."

The woman who had began to sob earlier, stood and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. She walked up to the podium, and the pastor rubbed her back, before stepping aside to let her speak. "Before I begin, I...I'd like to thank everyone for coming. The weather isn't agreeable, and there is a lot of emotions here that I'm sure many of you would rather not be feeling. I'm Cecelia, Kenneth's wife. We..we met in high school, years ago. I was on the track, jumping hurdles, and he had wandered outside, looking for his Chemistry teacher, who doubled as an athletic coach. While I was jumping...I saw him looking at me, and I guess I got distracted, and my foot got caught on a hurdle, and I fell." She smiled slightly, as if reliving the memory.

"He ran over to me and asked if I was okay. I told him I was fine, but he wouldn't let me stand. There was a cut on my knee, so he took out a band-aid, and covered it up, before he lifted me off the ground. He carried me all the way to the nurses office without even knowing my name. I knew that he was a good soul...my kindred spirit. From there, we became friends and fell in love." A few tears fell down her smooth, cocoa colored cheeks. "He was so excited about joining S.T.A.R.S. He was a little concerned as to why he, being a chemist, would be needed on the police force, but..his boss had sought after him, and I guess that was enough to convince him. I don't know what killed my husband out there..or any of these men for that matter. All I know...is that the love of my life has been taken away from me. He wasn't ready to die."

I looked over at Rebecca, who knew Kenneth the most, and she was quickly wiping the tears from her face. When she looked at me, I tried to give her a sympathetic smile. She smiled back, but she wasn't smiling on the inside. Cecelia Sullivan sat down again, and a man stood up and went up to the podium and cleared his throat. "Ah. I am...I was Joseph's older brother. I remember hearing for weeks on end about S.T.A.R.S. this and that, and he always said that it was cause of me, that he joined. We worked on cars when we were younger, and he was hired as a vehicle specialist, so I guess that's what he meant. I still can't believe that he's gone. But I think that he'd be happy, seeing everyone here together, to remember him and the rest of the crew." He cleared his throat again, obviously on the verge of tears. "That's all...thank you." It seemed like there was more he wanted to say, but as soon as he sat back in his seat, he broke down.

Rebecca stood up, and pulled a fresh tissue out of her purse before going up to speak. "It feels kind of wrong for me to speak about Enrico, since I only knew him for a short while. But, I will do my best. When I first joined S.T.A.R.S. I didn't know what to expect. I was anxious, and felt really nervous. I was around all these older guys with guns, and I had practically no experience. But Enrico made me feel comfortable, he made that police station seem like a second home. I think he felt guilty about me being a rookie, out there dealing with...unspeakable evils. It feels wrong, him not being here. He was everyone's leader. I think the guys kind of looked up to him like a father, but always thought of him as a friend..." She stepped back from the podium and wiped her eyes. "So, here's to you captain." She went back to her seat quickly.

Now it was my turn. I stood and flattened my black skirt before going up there in front of all of these people. I recognized some of them, one was Lacy Aiken, Richard's sister. I was about to talk about her brother, who sacrificed himself for me. It felt as if she was boring holes into me with her eyes. "My name's Jill Valentine...I'm a member of the Alpha team. Since Richard was a communications expert, both teams knew him. I'll always see Richard as a hero...he saved my life..I tried to save his, but I couldn't. I know his family is probably full of remorse because of that, and there isn't anything I can really do about it...I'm grateful every day to his parents for raising him so well. He had a habit of always putting everyone else's needs before his own. He was always the heroic type. I never imagined that he would...die just to save me. But I feel both honored and incredibly sad at the same time. I hate that I took someone away from his family and friends. It wasn't my fault directly that he died but if I wasn't there, he might have survived." I was babbling, and had strayed off of my original plan. I glanced up and saw Lacy. Her eyes were filled with tears.

She didn't seem mad at me, though. "I-If I may, I'd like to recite part of a poem that made me think of Richard..

These winter winds possess a frigid chill;
I sit alone and wonder why you died.
My eyes, my very soul begins to fill,
And naught I find that can my grief subside.
When once upon your strength I so relied,
I knew without a doubt you'd calm my fears;
My faith in you could never be denied.
There's no one now to stop my anguished tears." I walked over to his grave stone, kissed my fingers and pressed them against the top. "Goodbye, Richard." I said, before turning to go back to my seat. A woman was at the podium now, mascara streamed tears fell down her cheeks.

"Forest...oh, God, Forest. I can't believe you're gone. I spent years, devoting myself to you, hoping that one day you'd ask me to marry you. I begged you not to be on this team. I didn't want to lose you, and then you go and die." The woman seemed on the verge of a nervous break down. Someone went up, and pulled her away, back to her seat. An older man, perhaps his father, went up to speak. "Please forgive Lorraine, she's torn apart by this. In case none of you know, I'm Forest's old man. He was the perfect son. He loved everyone, and in turn made everyone love him back. He never gave any problems as a child, and his mother and I knew that he'd grow to be something really special. It was a little strange have a sniper as a son, but I remember working on an old truck in the garage one day, and he told me he never wanted to kill a man. He said that even if he went to war, and there were people shooting at him from every which way, he'd try to get them in the leg, or arm, or some place non-lethal." He smiled a bit.

"I didn't get it, I guess. I told him you're supposed to kill people when you're at war. The side that kills the most people, wins. But, he corrected me. He said that if you disabled someone, that they were as good as dead when it came to fighting, so that you didn't actually have to kill, to kill. I never really understood what he meant by that, but I knew that he had a good heart. Every day, I wish that he was still alive. But, like the Pastor said, God must have wanted him up in heaven for a greater cause. I miss you, son."

Quickly, I blotted at my eyes before the tears could even fall. I hated to cry in front of people. I looked around to see if anyone would speak on account of Edward Dewey. He was relatively new to the team, and I had only met him a few times. When no one stood, Chris did. "I guess I'm pulling double duty." He whispered, before going up to the podium. "I was originally supposed to speak for Brad. But since no one from Edward's family is here, I guess I'll do it. To be truthful, I hardly knew Edward. I heard that he would be flying for the Bravo team, and that's it. Considering he knew none of us, and vice versa, it seems like he was a pretty honorable man, to fly into what he knew was a dangerous zone, with complete strangers without a second thought. That has to count for something. It would be downright horrible for anyone not to remember his sacrifice." I smiled. He's a good improvisor.

"Now, on to Brad." He chuckled a little bit. "Everyone always gave Brad a hard time. He was the least brave of us, and we thoroughly busted his balls for it on a daily basis. However, he stayed in that chopper, waiting, and hoping that someone would turn up. He wanted to save somebody. Anyone. I can imagine that he would be scared of his mind of coming back down, but damn it all, he did. And I'm alive because of it. And Jill, and Barry, and Rebecca are all alive because of him. I'm sure his family remembers him complaining about being called Chickenheart, on more than one occassion. That's not how he met his end. He died a hero. For lack of a better word, he died with a Braveheart. In fact, he warned Jill about a danger so that even if he didn't escape, that she would. He's a hero, in my eyes."

Chris slowly went back to his seat and I gave him a small but approving smile."And now..." The Pastor began, raising his hands, signaling everyone to stand. "We may say our final goodbyes to our dear friends and family." Everyone moved in a line towards the graves and dropped roses into the newly dug holes. It was horrible. People were breaking down, falling to their knees, crying and screaming. I tugged on Chris's sleeve. He turned to looked at me. "I can't stay here." I whispered. He put a comforting hand on my shoulder and nodded.

"Okay. Let me just talk to Barry really quick." He replied.

"Is it alright if I meet you at the car?" I asked, feeling a sinking, queasy feeling in my stomach. He nodded, and I turned to leave when Lacy Aiken approached me. /Oh God. What's she going to say to me?/ I wondered. "Jill...I just..I wanted to tell you that I don't blame you for Richie dying." She said slowly, almost painfully.

"Lacy..thank you, but I..I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself." I stumbled, trying to find the right words.

"Thank you. He thought highly of you, really...that's all.." She slowly drifted away to her brothers grave and lingered there. Swallowing deeply, I ran back to Chris's car and jumped in. Breathing heavily, I pulled the lever that lowered the seat and tried to slow my breathing. I was never good at funerals, and being at one for seven of my friends is too much. I looked at my watch and sighed. It was a little after four p.m., and there was a dinner party at Barry Burton's house after the funeral. Glancing at the crowd of people, I was relieved to find Chris coming my way. His once-gelled hair was now soaking wet and flattened. He pulled the door open and jumped in to escape the rain.

"Wish I brought my umbrella with me." He said, drying his face with a tissue. "Are you okay, Jill?" He asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah, I'm okay now. I was just feeling a bit over whelmed. There were so many people there grieving...I felt like it was my fault." I answered as he started the car.

"Hey, we've talked about this. No one but Umbrella is to blame for this...I liked the poem you read. It was fitting."

"Thanks. I found it online. I had no idea what to say, really. I mean, I really feel horrible about him dying to save me which makes me feel like it was my fault, but--"

"Jill, don't do this again. Don't do this to yourself. I feel the guilt too, but there isn't much we can do, you know? Feeling bad is all we can do."

"You know Lacy, Richard's sister?" He nodded. "She told me that she doesn't blame me for his death."

He glanced over at me momentarily before focusing on the rain-slicked road. "That's good...right?" He said slowly.

"I guess. It didn't make me feel any better, though." I answered.

He shrugged. "You aren't supposed to feel better at funerals. What say we go get changed and have a few drinks before heading to Barry's?"

I couldn't help but smile. "Sure. Let's get plastered."