Memorial Day

Nightshade

Hundreds of thousands of simple white stones, lined up in perfect rows, following the swell and fall of the gentle rolling hills. Soldiers is life, soldiers in death. On this day, like on so many others, the rows are still and silent, quiet reminders of the cost of American freedom. Ask any soldier anywhere, and they will invariably tell that Arlington National Cemetery is sacred ground, a most holy place, even for those who do not believe in any god.

If Arlington is sacred ground, than this day is made of sanctified hours. Elsewhere in the city, a parade marks the day, showing thanks from the country to the soldiers who fight for her safety. Of all the holidays, Memorial Day has resisted the tide of consumerism that has sucked the meaning from all the others. If anything, it is the opposite that is true. The ongoing war pushed the meaning home; the hundreds of new markers, fresh in Arlington soil, drive the price of freedom harder home into the hearts of the people.

Already they have had their hands shaken a hundred times. Already grateful families have spontaneously embraced them. Even a simple stop for coffee delayed them almost an hour. But none of them minded; they needed the human contact as much as the civilians did. They looked sharp and clean in their Class A's, sunglasses on like a bunch of superstars. They sat quietly in the car long after it had pulled to a stop outside Arlington's gates.

Each of them was lost in his or her own thoughts. Stalker stared out the window at the neat rows, stretching long into the distance, and wondered silently when his name would be added to the ranks of perfect white stones. Scarlett thought only of her comrades, of Duke, and the strength of their unit, of how they were always able to overcome, always able to find a way to win. Snake Eyes looked upon the engraved crosses and saw only all that he'd lost: mother, father, twin sister, the one he felt as a brother toward, his friends, his brothers-in-arms. It wasn't until he looked beside him, that he felt there was still so much to lose. Nightshade was nervous, dwarfed by all of this, honored that her friends would see fit to include her in their yearly ritual, awed by the sheer number of tombstones that lined the grass. Would she eventually become one of these faceless thousands? Or would she, like her own brother, end up lost in the sands?

It was finally Stalker who moved, snapping open his door and breaking everyone from their thoughts. They moved as one being, bare seconds separating the sound of closing doors as it echoed over the Cemetery. Nightshade hesitated, waiting to take cues from the others. No one had spoke since they left the ceremony at the Capitol Building. Scarlett and Snake Eyes came around the car to flank them on the driver's side. After a few moments of gathering themselves, Stalker nodded, and struck out toward the gates. Nightshade brought up the rear, pausing for a moment before crossing the gate, to cross herself, and whisper a quiet prayer for the departed. After, she hurried for a moment to catch up.

Stalker knew exactly where he was going. He moved without hesitation, without worry; his confidence was born of hundreds of times walking this same path. Scarlett followed, the heels of her officer's uniform seeming not to impede her movement. Nightshade trailed behind Snake Eyes, worrying her lower lip as she watched the smooth-topped tombstones move past. She was still trying to figure out why they'd brought her, why Scarlett had gone to so much trouble to find her during the speeches. Glancing up, she saw that Snake Eyes had paused at the crest of a small hill, waiting patiently for her.

A small lump formed at the back of her throat. She knew what was beneath that mask, crafted so carefully to look like a regular face. She had seen him, and it had changed the dynamic between them ever so slightly. He kept his fists balled loosely at his sides, but he waited for her to join him. She went to head down the other side, to join Stalker and Scarlett where they stood among a dozen or so tombstones, but he stopped her with a quick hand. She opened her mouth to ask him what he wanted, but found her voice stall in her throat. The sanctity of this place, the silence of this cemetery, even with all the other people walking through it, with the sounds of tears on the air, speaking something so trite seemed... wrong.

For what seemed like a long time, they just looked at one another. Nightshade wished she could see what was going on in his eyes, hidden behind the dark sunglasses. That was something she remembered, amid the ruined scarring of his face, how blue his eyes were. She bit her lower lip, and dropped her eyes, unable to to fully face the memory. Snake Eyes seemed to understand, he turned slightly, and their was a momentary pressure of his hand against the small of her back. Just like when I was blind, she realized.

They joined with Scarlett and Stalker who were both standing before a row of stones, with their heads bowed. Nightshade studied them, while Snake Eyes moved forward to kneel beside one, bowing his head as well. There were perhaps a dozen or so stones that the three devoted their attentions to. A few in particular captured each of their attentions. The names alone engraved on the stones meant little to Nightshade, but the evidence of who they had been soon became apparent. Each stone had a special forces insignia upon it., a stylized American flag emblazoned beside whatever medals they had won in life. Nightshade swallowed hard.

They'd all been Joes. Brothers-in-Arms that have been lost in the line of duty. She looked at the names as though she could commit them to memory. But she didn't have to. Stalker stood beside her and quietly named each and every one of them. They had been Joes she'd heard stories about. Breaker. Doc. Heavy Duty. Quick Kick. Heavy Metal. The names seemed to go on forever, each one recited with a quiet mantra. Stalker's eyes swam with tears as he named them all.

Nightshade didn't hesitate, she acted without thought or care. She reached out, and grabbed Stalker's shoulders, pulling him down into a fierce hug that spoke volumes. She understood. If anything were to happen to the three of them, they wanted her to come here each year and say thank you. They wanted the ritual preserved. Even as she hugged Stalker, he reached out and caught Scarlett. The red-head joined the enveloping hug with fervor, squeezing so hard Nightshade believed she couldn't breathe.

Then as quickly as it happened, the hug broke up. Scarlett drew away, with Stalker to stand near the tombstone that had been identified as belonging to Breaker. Nightshade straightened herself out, and looked around. Snake Eyes was a few rows off, staring down at a freshly turned gravesite. Flowers rested beside the tombstone, lilacs, roses and honeysuckle. Nightshade whispered his name as she drew near, wary of startling him. Even thought Snake Eyes didn't look up, she knew he was aware of her. There wasn't anything to say. He was standing before the grave of General Joseph Colton.

Nightshade brought herself to attention, and offered a salute to the famous general. She offered Snake Eyes a small smile when he glanced in her direction. His gloved hand sought out hers, and for a few moments their fingers entwined. Nightshade looked up from the single tombstone, to survey the thousands. Somewhere up the hills, a bugler lifted his horn and began to play.

The words of a once read poem leaped to Nightshade's mind. As she felt the presence of Stalker and Scarlett join them before Colton's grave, she found courage to speak the words.

"The bloodied sun sinks in the west... And lights us all with glory; Here sleep the brave in honored rest... the bugler tells their story... oh it is sweet and fitting to die for one's country."