So. It's finally here. Amazing, huh? It's finally coming to an end. Wow.
Thanks to everyone who's read it, both here, on the Daniel/Vala forum and on LiveJournal. Special thanks to everyone who's reviewed. Bigger thanks to those who have continuously reviewed. Even bigger thanks to anyone who's beta-ed it for me, and for people who have offered their ideas.
I hope you've enjoyed this story, and don't mind the sappiness of this chapter. :)
Eagle
The door slowly opened before her, to a place both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. The space beyond the doorway was one that she had most definitely visited in the past, but a good four months had elapsed between her last visit and her present one. She paused for a long moment, eyes raking over the room before her.
After a moment, Marla took a quick, decisive step into the apartment, closing the door very firmly behind her. She habitually hung her car keys on the key rack on the wall by the door and kicked her shoes off of her feet and onto a small shoe-rack.
Then she slowly made her way through the tiny apartment towards the single bedroom in the back, carrying her duffel bag. On the way, though, she paused at a thermostat to turn the air conditioner on for the first time in months. Upon reaching her bedroom, she flicked on the light switch and let her eyes take in the room's only slightly dusty furnishings.
Like the rest of the apartment—which consisted of a foyer, small living room and a kitchen—the room was very sparsely decorated. Everything was basic and essentially style-less. The walls were white, the carpet was cream-colored, the dresser was small and wooden, the mirror over the dresser was average, and the twin-sized bed was basic with plain black sheets and blankets. No other scrap of furniture occupied the space.
And, it hadn't struck her before, but this room was, in a word, her.
Clean. Sharp. Ordinary. Routine. By-the-book.
Just like her.
Attempting to shake off the strange feeling that thought brought, she hefted her black duffel bag onto the bed and unzipped it. She began systematically unpacking its contents, sorting them into neat piles and then putting them into the correct dresser drawers.
She had gone on two weeks' leave from her duties at the SGC the day before, and was actually expecting to receive a reassignment before time for her to return to the base. So her room—or, more accurately, home—on the base was more or less contained in the duffel bag she was unpacking.
Reassignment, she thought to herself.
Slowly, she looked up to her reflection in the mirror. She was still wearing her full, formal Air Force uniform. Her eyes fell almost immediately to the silver general's stars pinned on either shoulder, where, for years before, an eagle had represented her rank as colonel. Now as a general, she felt more like an eagle.
Then her eyes took in the two new medals pinned on the uniform, and her mind drifted…
----
The words penetrated every raised barrier and sank into her heart.
"Brigadier General Marla Jameson, you are hereby presented with the United States Air Force Silver Star medal for gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States of America."
She stood utterly rigid while the star was pinned to her uniform. She was welling with deep pride as another medal was placed beside the previous ones on her blue jacket, but not a bit of her feelings showed on her carefully trained face.
"You are also hereby presented with the United States Air Force Cross Medal for extraordinary heroism in action against an enemy of these United States of America while engaged with the Stargate program. Congratulations, General."
But this time, as the medal was being pinned to her jacket, Marla's mask slipped for a short moment, and a sad smile broke through. That brief moment later, any form of expression again disappeared.
----
Her fingers brushed lightly across the brand new awards decorating her uniform, and then the shining stars on her shoulders. There was no doubt. They meant change for her, both in her career, and in her personally. Now when any Air Force officer saw her, and saw the ribbons, representing the earned medals, on her uniform, they'd know she'd done something "great" to earn them. And she'd have to live with them staring back at her, reminding her every time of what she'd had to do.
Of who she saw that day.
Turning away from the mirror, she shucked her dress jacket, laid it on the bed, and resumed packing. She tried to focus on the movements of taking the clothing out of her bag, and then placing it in the appropriate drawers. But when she came to the bottom of her bag, she couldn't any more.
Sitting in the very bottom of her duffel bag was a framed picture. The only one she'd ever kept.
The picture was of her team. Her real team.
She didn't even remember now what the photograph, but in it, Lieutenants Atkins and Gonzalez were kneeling down in front of Marla and Chris. And the SG-6 emblem was displayed in the center of the four teammates. Everybody was smiling. Even her.
And especially Chris. His grin almost literally went from ear to ear, as always.
Her fingers slowly drifted across his portion of the picture, and she let out a slight, whispering sigh. She was just waiting to break down again. Waiting for the tears to start flowing down her face, for the sobs to start racking her body again. But she waited for a few, long minutes and they never came.
No tears. No sobs. Just the same old sad feeling on the inside of her heart.
The twisting knife of grief and remorse was gone, replaced by an almost distant pang of melancholy sorrow.
I'm getting over it, she realized. I'm starting to move on.
She let out a light sigh, and her mind drifted back to the brief ceremony she'd attended a few hours earlier in Chris's honor.
------
She'd driven somewhere around three hours from the SGC to the tiny town in Kansas, just outside of Wichita, to be there for his funeral. It was the least she could do now. The minute she drove into the town, she was greeted by signs on every single shop door that announced they were closed. She frowned, but thought little of it until she came to the town square, and saw the amount of people gathered there.
Rows of chairs had been set up across the grassy square, in front of a small stage with a podium set up. In front of the podium, the standard folded-flag memorial was proudly displayed.
She found a place with some difficulty and parked her car. Getting out, she stood for a moment, smoothing her uniform. Then, taking a deep breath, she crossed the street and headed towards the rest of the people waiting for the ceremony to begin. Reaching the rows of chairs, she moved to the farthest back row, and sat in the very last chair.
Closing her eyes, she breathed a deep sigh.
"Colonel Jameson?"
Her eyes flew back open, and she looked towards the sound of the voice. She saw Chris's aging mother—whom she had met a before—standing there, a faint smile on her face. The same faint smile that Marla remembered from the last time she'd seen her, probably a year and a half ago.
"Actually, Mrs. Grouper, it's General Jameson now," Marla replied.
"Oh!" the old woman exclaimed, smiling widely. "Congratulations, General!" She glanced around, then frowned down at Marla. "Honey, is this where you're plannin' on sittin'?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," Marla answered.
"Why don't you sit up there with us?" Mrs. Grouper asked, pointing up towards the front rows.
Marla recognized several of Chris's relatives that she'd met before—such as his two sisters and his brother—standing and sitting there. She noted the small signs on the ends of those rows. "Uh, Mrs. Grouper, they're reserved for your family."
The old woman offered another smile, and Marla realized how much Mrs. Grouper reminded her of Chris when she did. "Honey, you're as much Christopher's family as anyone else over there is," she said. "I think he was about as close to and cared for you as much as his sisters and brother. You're family in my book. So come sit with the family."
A little self-consciously, Marla stood, and followed the short woman to the front-most row. Once there, she smiled faintly at Chris's sisters Erin and Cindy, who, to Marla's great surprise, both hugged her tightly. Then she went to shake their brother David's hand, but he too pulled her into a short hug.
"We're glad you could be here," Cindy said. "Really."
"Yeah," Marla replied awkwardly. "I don't think I could miss Chris's funeral."
Erin hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Jameson, were you there when Chris… died?" She looked over Marla's face, and Marla got the feeling that she was looking at the freshly healed scars on it.
For a moment, Marla didn't know what to say. The family, not being of a high enough security clearance, had probably only been told that Chris had been killed in action. And it was likely they assumed that meant she and Chris were in undercover in Iraq.
Oh, boy, did they have it wrong.
She looked down, and took in a deep breath. When she looked back up to Chris's family, she nodded tightly. "Yeah. I was there."
"Please…" Cindy started. "What were his last words?"
Marla hesitated for a moment. "He told me to tell you all that he loved you," she lied.
All four of the Groupers just stared at her for a moment.
Mrs. Grouper raised an eyebrow. "Honey, we all know that ain't what he said. Chris would never say that." She put a hand on Marla's shoulder, and raised her eyebrows. "Now, tell the truth. What'd he really say?"
Marla took a deep breath and opened her mouth. For a minute, the words caught in her throat and refused to come out. Then she forced them out. The family wanted to know. "He told me to go on," she said, eyes falling to the ground. "He told me to leave him and keep going."
Everyone was quiet for a minute, and Marla feared that the family would hate her now, knowing what she'd done.
"If he told you to do it, then he must've meant it," David spoke up.
"Don't be ashamed of what you did," Mrs. Grouper added. "There was probably nothing you could've done."
All Marla could do was nod shortly.
"Oh, look," Mrs. Grouper remarked, "Brother Cavil's ready to start. C'mon, everybody sit down."
Marla obeyed, and found herself sitting between Mrs. Grouper and Cindy as the pastor began speaking. She expected his tone to be the usual, flat one that so many preachers seemed to use for sermons. She was quite surprised when what she thought was a droll intonation turned out to be a man speaking out of obvious care for Chris.
"We've all suffered a loss," Brother Cavil said. "Christopher Shane Grouper was a great part of this community. He grew up here. And he brightened all of our days while doing so. Even after he enlisted in the Air Force, he came back as often as he could." He paused. "But Christopher died doing a great good. He was killed in action, defending his country. Nobly, I'm sure."
Marla smiled to herself at that.
-----
And she smiled to herself again.
Chris really had died doing something great. And the service given for him really honored and reflected that. He would have been proud, and so she was proud for him in his stead.
With a sigh, she set the picture atop her dresser.
She sat down on her bed, then just let herself fall backwards in a flop against the hard mattress. Her eyes slowly drifted closed. Yes, she really was healing over Chris. She was getting over all of her regret. She'd forgiven herself for not telling him. She'd forgiven herself for leaving him behind.
Finally, Marla Jameson was at peace with Chris Grouper's death, and with herself.
And, as she was moving on, so was her life. Soon, she'd be reassigned. She'd be leaving the SGC, and would probably be leaving the entire area. God only knew where she'd be moved to, but she was hoping that she'd be moved to Atlantis. If not right away, then hopefully sometime soon.
Reassignment also meant she got a fresh beginning somewhere else.
She could begin anew, without her cold reputation. Without expectations. In essence, she could change who she was for the better. Who knew, maybe this would even change her drastically.
She laughed to herself. That reminded her of something Vala had said yesterday...
----
"Hey, you'll be dating again in no time!" she exclaimed.
Marla raised an eyebrow at her.
"I think you can take that as a huge no, Vala," Daniel put in.
Vala opened her mouth to protest, but Marla cut in before she could get anything out. "Well, as much fun as it is being told I need to date, I have somewhere to be…" She turned, and started walking towards the door.
Daniel caught her by the arm and she turned back around to raise an eyebrow at him. "Before you go, Marla, there's something I—" He looked at Vala, then corrected himself. "—we want to say."
She made a gesture for him to continue.
Daniel and Vala exchanged a glance, then said in unison, "Thank you."
"You've both only said that to me a thousand times," Marla retorted, turning to leave again. Again, though, Daniel caught her by the arm before she could.
"But you really deserve it," Vala said. "You've done so much for both of us."
A small smile tugged at the edges of Marla's lips, and her eyes dropped to the ground for a moment. Then she brought them back up to the couple in front of her. "And you've both done more for me than you know. Thank you."
----
And they had. Marla really believed that through this ordeal, Daniel and Vala had truly helped her. On various levels, they'd even helped her make it through the change she knew had happened.
They'd helped her realize what was wrong with her life.
The one major thing that she'd learned from all of this, it was that life was too short to live it on the sidelines. Life was too fleeting to sit on one's hands, not doing anything one wanted. What was life if you never did what you wanted? If you never really lived?
And, Marla Jameson vowed, from here on out, she was changing.
Okay, now about the sequel. I've been fairly quiet about it so far, but let me explain it some more now.
In the sequel--which is going to take place about a year after this ending--Marla's going to get the reassignment she wants, and is going to Atlantis. (But no fear, she's not going to take over Sheppard's job.) When she arrives, it turns out that Elizabeth has been kidnapped. Anyway, the story's going to be Sparky, of course, but might also have a side of McKay/Cadman, and will definitely see Marla paired off too. But with who? You'll have to read and find out!
And actually, something's happened. I said before that it might be a couple weeks before I got to write the sequel, but now it's looking like longer.
See, I've got some challenge fics that will probably take up the rest of this month, and I'm seriously considering entering NaNoWriMo for November. Then I have the first few weeks of December, but then I'm going out of town for about 2 weeks for the holidays. So, I don't think you all want me to start writing the sequel, then leave you hanging for 2 weeks, right? lol. SO, it's looking like I probably won't get to writing the sequel (which will be called 'Diduco Amatorum' which is Latin btw) until after the New Year.
Yeah, I know. That sucks.
ANYWAY, remember to review because: Reviews are like pills and my muse is a hypochondriac.
-The Noble French Fry