A/N: Okay, if you've read The Right Thing to Guide Us, you know who's going to leave with Elizabeth, John and the rest of the Atlanteans. Thinking about how to go about it, I decided that the SGC and Homeworld Security gave the Expedition members one last big send-off and since no one knew if they'd ever come back, someone somehow (I suspect Jack) managed to convince Finances to shell out the big bucks and do it at the Broadmoor. And since it was never mentioned that they didn't get an official send-off, I took the liberty of filling in the blanks.

We'll also see the introduction of a new OC whom you might have encountered before if you've read a couple Minor Characters or Protect and Survive stories taking place a couple years down the road. This is how he got into the Stargate Program. Everyone give him a warm welcome, huh?


Forget Who I Was

Es gibt nichts, was mich hält, au revoir
vergesst, wer ich war,
vergesst meinen Namen
Es wird nie mehr sein, wie es war
ich bin weg oh oh (oh oh) au revoir."

Mark Forster, „Au Revoir"

One

Greenspan

Well, that's it, then. This night of dancing and everyone pretending no one here is shit scared at the Broadmoor's Rocky Mountain Ballroom and tomorrow maybe a heartbreaking goodbye scene and SG10 as we came to know it in the last twelve months ceases to be. I've tried to be happy for Maureen, since you know, Atlantis, that's sure to be a real big career opportunity, provided the Pegasus galaxy doesn't kill her first, and everything. I've tried so very hard. But it always comes down to one thing: I'm going to miss her, like hell.

It's stupid, of course. I've been a soldier long enough to getting used to PCSing and people transferring out, to my social circle changing completely every few years but usually, people don't get transferred to a different galaxy, with no certainty of ever returning or even at least being able to stay in contact, at all. With the exception of Tom disappearing from my radar for an entire year and those of my friends and colleagues and acquaintances who became casualties in one of the wars they were fighting – and granted, my brothers but that was my choice, not theirs – I always managed to keep in touch with basically everyone I ever met through my job or privately and liked.

And now the girl who became my first best friend in years is going to disappear into another galaxy and there's nothing I can do about it. I…

"Now, if that isn't my favorite microbiology and hospital hygiene specialist. Fancy meeting you here of all places, Greenspan." Right.

I turn around, tearing my gaze away from the dance floor where… oh my God, did Tom just force the Marine officer Maureen was dancing with to let him dance with her? That's not good. That just can't be…

Okay, calm down, she's a big girl, she can handle this on her own. Keep to your own advice just for once, Greenspan, and let her use the wings you gave her. Alright. Be polite. Concentrate on the guy who just approached you. I smile at the guy standing in front of me, wearing what is apparently the German Army's version of mess dress and grinning at me. "Fancy meeting you here, Morsberg." My gaze falls on his shoulders. Huh. "And bumped up a pay grade, too. Congratulations."

"Thank you. Guess they couldn't bear the thought of sending a mere lieutenant as their only representative in the infirmary." Mh, yeah, that's Matthias Morsberg, German Army, for you. We first met during my time at USU in Bethesda and it's been a while since I heard anything from him last – which was really weird since it happened in Bagram during a pretty bad mass-cal and it took me at least ten minutes to realize that the bearded German Special Forces guy I was talking to was the same guy as the baby-faced, irreverent exchange student I partied with in Bethesda – but apparently, he hasn't changed a bit. Or at least he tries very hard to make it look like he's still the same guy he was when he was drinking, studying and pissing off superiors his way through a year of US military med school. Don't we all.

I smirk at him. "Yeah, that must have been it. So, a Captain, huh?"

He shrugs. "Stabsarzt, actually but yeah, a Captain." Why the Germans have different ranks for their medical officers is and will always be beyond me. I consider asking him about it but he beats me to opening my mouth by saying, "Huh, funny."

Forcing myself not to look at the dance floor, I raise my eyebrows at him. "What is?"

"You know," he says and for a moment, it's pretty plain that the exchange student has been replaced by something entirely else, and that he doesn't seem to like that, "just two days ago, I was choking on dust in some godforsaken wadi, and now I'm standing here sipping champagne and wondering how the hell I of all people got accepted to be part of the first ever group to go to another galaxy. It's just really boggling my mind, is all."

Well. I clear my throat. "The uh noticing part might or might not have been my fault."

It's his turn to look at me with raised eyebrows. "Might or might not have been?"

Alright, alright. I roll my eyes. "Oh fine, it was. They were asking for people with emergency surgery skills to volunteer and somehow I managed to mention your name. That's how you got on the list for potential candidates."

He makes a face, and I'm not sure if it's appreciative or perplexed. Seriously. It is completely indiscernible. "And how did I get on the list of approved personnel?"

I shrug. And purposefully avoid looking at Maureen and Tom on the dance floor. Whatever's going on there, I really don't want to know. "That's way above my pay grade, Captain."

Pretty sure he just wanted to correct me or at least keep digging deeper but as luck would have it, it's this precise moment that I hear a well known voice saying from behind me, "Do you want to break it up yourself or should I do the honors?"

Goddammit.

For a moment, I consider not turning around and just keep ignoring the dance floor but then again, it's not Dee's style to simply barge in on a conversation, especially not between officers, so I roll my eyes and even go as far as heaving a slightly dramatic sigh and then turn to the dance floor, after all. And yep, there they are, having stopped dancing in the middle of swishing and swirling couples and it looks very much like a scene is impending.

Just fucking great. I really thought… "I know it's not really my business but what exactly is going on?"

Ah, right. I grimace and then clear my throat to dig up the social graces I learned at the Academy. "Matthias, may I introduce you to Master Sergeant Simon DeLisle, US Air Force, our team's resident explosives expert?" Raising his eyebrows, Morsberg extends his hand to Dee, mumbling something about "Pleasure, Sergeant" while Dee shakes it. "Dee, this is Captain, sorry Stabsarzt," he just winced. Morsberg definitely just winced when I actually bothered to use his fancy new German rank. Asshole. "Dr. Matthias Morsberg, German Army Medical Service. We met at USU in Bethesda when he was an exchange student there."

Dee at least tries to be civil and polite, mumbling something like "Nice meeting you, sir," but it's pretty clear that he'd rather get it over with the formalities so he can pull me aside and convince me to let him handle the enfolding scene on the dance floor. By now it's clearly visible even from here that Tom and Maureen are about to get into a heated debate about God knows what.

Morsberg, of course, can't just leave it be, raising his eyebrows again expectantly and saying, "So…"

It's weird but for some reason I love how Dee doesn't answer right away, just gives me a very short, almost unnoticeable look, waiting for me to nod at him equally subtly to give Morsberg the answer that meddling busybody wants. So, we still haven't actually talked about that whole Pikes Peak thing and things haven't gotten any less complicated but at least something somehow… loosened up. Well. You know. Whatever. "So we have a situation at hand, sir."

That, of course, sure as hell didn't do anything to quell Morsberg's curiosity so I sigh again and set out to explain further. "See that arguing couple out there in the middle of the floor?" Morsberg nods, and I almost wince when Tom reaches out to grab Maureen by her elbow. Hasn't that guy learned anything? "That's our commanding officer and our linguist, and they're about to embarrass themselves in front of practically every important officer in the program."

To his credit, Morsberg doesn't immediately ask what the hell this is about, just blinks, throws a weirdly thoughtful look at the dance floor, then another curious one at me and Dee that I don't like at all and then says, "You know what? I think I'll try my luck at this." What the hell? "Anyone in your team going to Atlantis?"

Damn, straight into the wound. I exchange a short look with Dee, then reply, "Yes, she is. Volunteered just a couple weeks ago." I don't even know why I added that bit, especially because there's that weird contemplative look on Morsberg's face again. Followed by a calculating look.

What is going on here? "Ah. Makes sense." Huh? "Okay, you two have fun while I go and try my hand at some socializing with a fellow expedition member."

Uh, no. Definitely not. "I don't think that's a good idea, sir." See? Dee agrees. That's a surefire sign that…

"Don't worry, Sergeant, I'll be fine." And with that, he's off, striding towards Tom and Maureen who are still arguing, and all I can do is shake my head. Damn, I honestly didn't think he'd be that stupid.

"Laura?" Huh? "What's his medical specialty?"

Whatever that is supposed to mean. Not sure where Dee is going with this, I reply, never taking my eyes off the scene on the dance floor, "Emergency and combat surgery, far as I remember."

Was that just a snort from Dee? "Good. At least he can patch himself up afterwards, then." Okay, okay. That was funny. Just a little bit. I can't help grinning at him. "Anyway, what I wanted to ask before things went downhill out there…" Yes? "Would you care for this dance, ma'am?" See? Definitely less awkward.

If that is even possible, my grin grows brighter as I take his offered hand. "Thought you'd never ask, Sergeant." He doesn't answer, just gives me a smile that looks almost bashful and leads me out on the floor. Now figure that. And here I thought I'd spend the evening being bored to tears.


„There's nothing holding me here, au revoir
Forget who I was
Forget my name
It's never again going to be the way it used to be
I am gone oh oh (oh oh) au revoir."

Mark Forster, "Au Revoir"