Setting: Set approximately twenty-five years before the first season of Stargate Atlantis, and about seventeen years or so before Jack O'Neill, Daniel Jackson, and their team went through the Gate to Abydos during the events of the Stargate movie.
A/N: This story was originally written to celebrate Veterans Day, also known as Remembrance Day in the British Commonwealth. Celebrated on the eleventh day of the eleventh month, it commemorates the signing of the Armistice that ended World War I and has since evolved into a day to recognize and acknowledge the sacrifice made by veterans of all wars.
I also wanted to try my hand at writing Lorne as a child - kidfics are not my usual cup of tea, and I'm not entirely sure how well it came out, but there it is.
Seven-year-old Evan Lorne stared in awe at the table covered with little flowers of a shade of red even brighter than a fire truck.
"Here, Evan," his grandfather said, taking one of the flowers and pinning it to the boy's shirt. He had already pinned one of the bright little flowers to his own lapel. "They're called poppies," Grandpa explained. "We wear them so that we remember, a long time ago, there was a war. A great and terrible war that covered the entire world."
"Were you there?" Evan asked curiously as he fingered the crimson flower on his shirt.
"Oh, yes. I was there. I was really little at the time. Just about your age, actually. But my father, your great-grandfather, he fought in the Great War."
He smiled, but he seemed strangely sad to the boy. He led Evan to a nearby bench and sat down, his hands gently holding Evan's. "President Wilson called it 'the war to end all wars.' It was so big that everyone thought that no one would ever fight again once it was over. And many folks like my dad went far, far away to fight, to protect our freedom. I still have every one of the letters he sent to my mother and me from overseas - if you want, I'll let you read them sometime."
His grandfather closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped slightly. "Don't be sad, Grandpa," Evan begged with all the honest reassurance a child could offer.
"It's alright, Evan," his grandfather told him, but there were tears on his cheeks. Evan had never known his grandfather to cry. "It's been a very long time since I've talked about my dad, and the truth is I can barely remember him at all."
"Why?" frowned Evan, trying and failing to imagine how someone could forget his own father.
"Because he died in the War, and went to Heaven. It was a very, very long time ago, and all I have left are his letters and a few photographs. But if I try really hard, I can still remember," a slow, wistful smile crossed his face, "one time he came into my room and sat next to my bed and said the night-night prayer."
"The same one Mom and Dad say when I go to bed?"
"The same one," his grandfather nodded. "And after my dad left, my mother came to my room every single night and said the night-night prayer. She told me that my father, wherever he was, no matter how far away... he was saying it with her."
"I think your mommy was really smart," Evan replied sagely. "'Cause my mommy says the same thing whenever Dad goes away."
Evan's grandfather ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "Yeah, and your mommy is a smart lady, too, Evan," he laughed as his grandson hopped off the bench and grabbed his hand.
"Can you show me the pictures of your dad when we get home, Grandpa?" he asked. "That way I can help you remember him."
His grandfather seemed surprised for a moment, but he leaned over and hugged Evan tightly. "Of course I'll show you, Evan," he replied, wiping away the moisture in his eyes.
~o0o~
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.
-Laurence Binyon