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The mood in the locker room was somber, suiting Major's downcast spirits perfectly. Everyone was thinking of the men they had lost, trying not to look at the little shrine that had been set up in their memory and yet unable to look at anything else. Except Major, who was more than capable of not looking at anything or anyone. He had reached a depth of unhappiness that left little room in his mind for anything else.
He slowly started to unbutton his shirt in preparation for changing into his uniform, although he was increasingly uncertain what the point was. He was going to be found out as human any day now. Why prolong the agony? Why not just tell all these guys he was a human and walk out with his tail between his legs? Like anyone would notice he was gone anyway.
Stoll broke the silence, marching in and announcing loudly, "Outside in ten, gentlemen. We're running D-Day simulations. We know what's out there—let's make sure we're ready for it." He turned around, looking at each of them. "And get your butts to a polling place when we're done. We'll need one of our own running this city when all hell breaks loose."
'One of our own.' Major couldn't help but wish he still was, that he still fit in somewhere. It was hard to remember now why he had chosen to die rather than become a zombie in the first place, why he had wanted so badly to be human. What was out there for Major Lilywhite, useless human?
As Major reached into his locker room for his uniform top, every movement weighted down with the futility of his entire life, Stoll turned away from him, unzipping his jacket. "And if you happen to pass by Pike Place on your way home, make sure you grab one of these."
Laughter echoed through the room. Major looked at Stoll, wondering what was so funny—and when his fellow soldier turned around, he saw that it was him. It was a T-shirt of the picture Shawna had taken of him naked, with the caption "KILLER ABS." Great. Wasn't that just what he needed. He forced a smile, but didn't think it convincingly covered how humiliated he felt. Looking at Justin, who was also smiling, he read pity on his face. So. He had made a big mistake, he had wallowed in sex in order to escape his misery, and he would be paying for it. For a long time.
He wondered if any of his fellow soldiers could be convinced to snack on his brain, just to rid him of the need to spend any more time thinking with it.
Major finished his shift and forced himself to accept the good-natured ribbing of the rest of the team, little as he wanted to. Then he dutifully went to vote, and did, indeed, cast his vote for Baracus. After all, Major had kidnapped the man, it seemed only fair that he made up for it by making him the mayor of Seattle.
He returned to Fillmore Graves later that night for the traditional wake. As he pulled up in front of the building, the radio station he was listening to had turned its evening discussion to—what else—Major Lilywhite, Chao$ Killer. Because of course they had. Because all he had wanted was to disappear, so now Shawna was making sure everyone who hadn't already heard of him did so, and in the most tawdry fashion.
"How is he walking around a free man?" "Isn't there a law against profiting from your own crimes?" "If I ever see him walking around, I'm going to show him a little chaos."
Shaking his head, he got out of the car, thinking of the old adage, "Be careful what you wish for." He had wished to be anonymous, and now he never would be again.
The wake helped. Being surrounded by his squadmates, drinking a lot, looking back on their fallen with sadness but also honesty about their many flaws … There had been too many wakes, to be sure, but the familiarity of the event, the camaraderie in the room, lifted Major's spirits. He wasn't alone. If something happened to him, the rest of Fillmore Graves would come together and sing "Finnegan's Wake" for him, and that meant something. It meant he was part of something.
Even Chase Graves was there. He hadn't joined in the dancing, but he was singing along with everyone else. He understood how much they needed this reminder of who they were and what they stood for—and that they stood together, no matter what.
Major stepped out for the second verse, feeling unself-conscious as he lip-synced to the song. These were his people; they understood him. As much as you could understand someone who was keeping a big secret from you, granted, but his restored humanity was only a small detail, and in the effervescence of the moment it seemed insignificant. Even the T-shirt Zack had worn earlier seemed like a gesture of affection, something to laugh at and let go.
And, after all, wasn't that what a wake was about? Learning to laugh at your losses, to accept them and show your love for the departed, knowing that tomorrow life would go on?
Tomorrow, life would go on. He would still be Major Lilywhite, Chao$ Killer—Chao$ Kidnapper—reviled by much of Seattle, but he would also still have this. These men. Peyton. Ravi. Liv. It was enough to give him a reason to move forward.