Nothing could prepare one to lose your brother, your closest friend, your closest companion of a lifetime.

For months, Ragnar had grown somewhat used to his brother's absence from his side, as Ruarc recovered on personal leave. He had stopped thinking he heard his brother's voice at every turn, stopping thinking he saw his black shadow flickering across the edge of his vision. Not having Ruarc there as he looked after the Commander made Ragnar sometimes feel as if he were missing a limb. They had fought together, side by side, for so long that Ruarc's absence just felt … wrong. But he had always reassured himself that Ruarc would be back eventually.

Sooner or later.

One day.

But then …

But then …

He wasn't.

Ruarc never came back.

Never returned from leave.

Never even said goodbye before he took himself off to the front lines without a goodbye, an explanation, or a by-your-leave.

Without an explanation to Ragnar.

To their mother.

To Daniel, who had been one of his brother's closest friends.

And most of all, not even to Sujanha, by whose side they had served for hundreds of years.

And Ragnar did not understand why.

Why, why, why.

What had gotten into Ruarc's mind to lead him toward such a fateful and eventually fatal decision?

Ruarc had not spent much time on Uslisgas during his leave, but he had spent some in their once-shared little apartment. He had spoken nothing of his intent to return to the Imperial Guard, had not even indicated that he was unhappy, personally or in their posting. Grieving, yes, but that was different.

But now … now he was gone.

Gone forever.

Gone like their father.

Gone like all of their old comrades in the Imperial Guard who had died during the Great War.

Gone like the entire Imperial Guard now, lost to a man in that disastrous battle.

Gone forever.

Gone without a goodbye.

And Ragnar did not understand why.

Why?

Why had his brother left?

Left him?

Left their mother?

Left Sujanha?

What had driven him to leave Sujanha's service?

Those questions were running through his mind on repeat in the aftermath of the funeral service on Numantia for those who had fallen on Taremu, all 50,000 of them. Ragnar was not the only one grieving a lost loved one, not the only brother who had lost a sibling, and their mother was one of many who had lost a son.

First, their mother had lost her husband, and now she had lost one of her sons. She was too fragile right now, and that left Ragnar alone to deal with the unpleasant task of going through his brother's things in their shared set of rooms, picking up the pieces of his brother's life, disposing of what needed to be disposed, and distributing the rest according to what he felt would be his brother's wishes as Ruarc had left no will nor informal letter of instructions.

Among his brother's belongings, Ragnar found a letter, scribbled on a real sheet of paper, tucked away in the stand by his bed.

Ruarc had written it not long before his death, judging by the date, not long before leaving for that final deployment.

It was written in a surprisingly shaky hand with marks that testified to multiple false starts and plenty of erasures.

The contents brought Ragnar little comfort, though it brought him some answers … of a sort, some clarity to the struggles that Ruarc had been facing since the Diagoth, struggles that Ragnar had not known of or not fully known of, some answers for his unexpected departure from Sujanha's service. He would share it with the Commander and with Daniel, though he doubted it would bring them any more comfort that it had brought him … especially for Sujanha.

My dearest brother, Ragnar,

The blessings of the Maker have seen us safely through many battles together, side by side, but if you ever have cause to read this letter, I fear that I have passed beyond the Sea of Night, sailing on to whatever comes next. As I sit here writing this for you and another for mother, I hope to the Maker that they will never be needed. If the Great War, if these past years fighting the Goa'uld have taught us anything, however, it is that even for us, the Furlings, whose lives can span such a great expanse of years, there is never a guarantee of tomorrow.

I fear you will not understand or agree with my choice to return to active duty with the Imperial Guard. I fear, indeed, that you will be angry with me. I am off-world, training with the men, as I write this letter. You are still in Avalon, last I knew, so there will be no chance to tell you my decision in person, and you would seek to dissuade me if I did. I am writing this letter in case we should not meet again, since it would be cruel for us to part with no word of explanation on my part, as last you probably knew I was still on leave.

On one issue, let there be no misunderstanding between us. It is through no fault of yours or of the Commander that I return to the Imperial Guard and the front lines of yet another war. You are, as ever, dear to my heart, the best of brothers one could wish for in this life. To serve and fight beside you all these years has been a pleasure and an honor. It has been an honor, also, to serve Supreme Commander Sujanha for these past almost five-hundred years. I say an honor despite how furious I was in the beginning when Supreme Commander Anarr pulled us away from our comrades without warning when he reassigned us to her service. Our brothers and sisters were fighting and dying in agony on the front lines, disappearing into the depths of the Enemy's prisons never to be seen again, and we were … safer, ensconced on her flagship, which … well, if a ship appears that can defeat the Valhalla in battle, that will probably signal the end of another age, the end of our Empire ... safer with soft beds and better rations and dry clothing, which could not be said for our fellows.

One of my dearest friends, save you, died on the Diagoth those months ago. Since this terrible war, necessary though it is, began, many of our old comrades, who somehow survived the Great War alongside us, have perished at the hands of the Goa'uld and their ilk. They survived the greatest foe our galaxy has probably ever seen, only to fall, here and now, and to what? A race of parasites with delusions of galactic domination, who advanced themselves by stealing our technology and ruling with a level of cruelty and brutality that is all too family after the travesties of the Great War.

I cannot bear it any longer.

I cannot sit by any longer on the side and watch our old comrades continue to die, one by one.

Many would consider it the honor of a lifetime to serve as Sujanha's bodyguard. Let another take my place, and I will go where I feel that I must. Please make sure that the Commander understands that it is with no bitterness toward her that I make this choice. It was not her will that assigned us to her service in the first place those years ago.

Good fortune, my brother, and safe journey upon all your paths. May the stars ever light your way until we meet again beyond the Sea of Night.

Ruarc