A/N: A bonus chapter for you guys. I always wanted to write this chapter in a different way, but because it's Memorial Day in the United States, I decided to write this as a tribute to those who are currently serving and those who did. Since Gajeel is a military vet, I decided to do this scene a little earlier than I would have liked.

Warning: Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is mentioned in this chapter. It is a serious condition that happens to most of our soldiers after being discharged from their deployment. Many of them do not show it to the people and often times keep it to themselves. Even though they keep quiet, the love and support of their love ones keep their heads above water.

Chapter 6.0: Remembrance

"Hey Sergent!" Gajeel turned his head around as far as his vest and helmet would allow. "When we head back to base, we check the Magnolia Cubs score and if they lose, you buy us a round."

"Yer team the Brewers, Private?" Gajeel snickered.

"Yes, sir!" He nodded with pride, hearing two other platoon mates holler in return.

"Brewers never win against the Cubs," Gajeel roared. "Yer team are named the Brewers cause you serve the winners the ale."

"Oh!" Three other members of his squad hollered in his response. Their Humvee bounced rhythmically at the desert road, though not much of it was a road to begin with.

"Whatever, Sergeant!" The soldier laughed back. "We know we'll beat you to the playoffs one of these days."

"And it's this season, baby!" Another one added, adjusting his firearm in his gloved hands. Despite the harsh heat, they managed to keep themselves cool and distracted with idle chit chat before they deploy their next mission. A simple pick up of injured and sick civilians needing of medical treatment back to their base.

"We'll see about that!" Gajeel shouted. "Either way, win or lose, I'm buying! Let's finish this pick up and head back home. Hoorah!" Gajeel shouted louder this time and held up a strong fist in the air.

"Hoorah!" The entire Humvee cheered as they drove towards a small village in the outskirts of Ghazni.

A phone alerted Gajeel from his train of thought, losing himself in the image of the man in the mirror. He looked down at the top of his dresser. Juvia was calling him for the third time that morning. Probably wanted to ask him what uniform should they be wearing to their Memorial Day event at the Military base. Previous years he or she didn't want to go to events like this. Five years after their honorable discharge, they worked on this day for many reasons. Like overseas, today was like any other day.

"Hey," Gajeel picked up his phone and finally answered. "Yeah…same as a promotional ceremony." He paused and listened to Juvia's question. "Since yer a Ranger, wear the cords and medals—Sure—I'll see you then." He set the phone down and placed it on his dresser.

Six years.

Had it been that long? Of course, it was six years ago. Gajeel knew he wasn't that kid anymore, and he had grown since his return from his third tour overseas.

"Sergeant!"

"Sergeant!"

He shook his head, hearing their voices again.

Gajeel hated the quiet, though for some reason his apartment was as quiet as a library. His hands reached over to the wireless speakers on his oak dresser and turned it on, filling the room with the sound of classic rock, diverting his darting mind away from his darkness.

Boom!

Gajeel's eyes flickered to his reflection in the mirror, staring deeply into his own troubled eyes. A need to focus on something else, ignoring the scratching and clawing within the hell inside his head. He seethed, trying to take deeper breaths, however, they became shorter and shorter as his hold on his sanity begun to slip. The man in the mirror looked dead, red orbs dilated wide and any sign of light was gone. He needed something; something to pull him away, but all he saw in the mirror was fear.

Regret.

Guilt.

His right arm begun to hurt, bones shaking and aching from an old memory that left scars. Literally. Every ivory colored scar on his arm pulsated painfully, remember the shrapnel from the IED and debris tearing through his skin and muscle. The screams and explosions bursting into his ear, ringing death amongst his brain, coming back to him as headaches. And the sight of red, burned and splattered all over the dirt and faces of those who he once called comrades seared into his alike eyes…he was falling once again.

"Gajeel," Levy's voice called out to him. He stopped strumming his acoustic Taylor guitar and looked over a balcony over to see her waving at him. "Can't sleep?"

"Sorry," Gajeel gulped, setting his guitar down. "I didn't know I was loud."

"No," Levy shook her head. "And you weren't. Actually, what you were playing sounded good." She tip toed towards the railing and leaned over to get a better look at his guitar. "I like it," she said, flickering her eyes back at Gajeel.

"Thanks," Gajeel muttered.

"Can you play it again?" Levy asked, curiously pleading with her honey brown eyes. He nodded silently and picked it up.

He played for her, and she let him with no interruption, listening carefully at each note plucked and each chord strung. A song with no name or no words only a simple melody captivated her. Parted lips and hooded eyes stared intently at his fingers. Locks of wild blue tendrils framed her cute heart shaped face. Before she joined him, Gajeel couldn't sleep. A problem he always had for a long time. And lately with a song writing slump only to have Cobra or Rogue help finish what he started.

"Are you going to play that during your acoustic session?" She asked once he strums his last chord.

"Not finished yet." Gajeel answered, setting the guitar down, leaning it against the railing. "Still has some work to do."

"I hope you play it soon." Levy smiled. "I would hate to see it unheard."

"You listened to it, Shrimp." Gajeel chuckled. "I wouldn't say it isn't."

"Honored to be sure," Levy blushed. "Though, I think you should share it. The melody sounds…haunting…" She paused as he looked at her quizzically. "Not in a bad way!" She shook her head. "In a good way where your fans will like it."

"I'll think about it." Gajeel nodded. "Gotta write lyrics first."

Gajeel hummed to himself, feeling the reverb deep within his chest. His incomplete song. The song of nothing, but when Levy came into the picture, that song became a light of its own. A song from the midst of darkness had shown itself in the light of sunflower eyes and sky blue hair. A haunting ballad to those trapped in the same page as he, and guides them to peace.

"Gajeel?" Levy knocked his bedroom door. "I tried calling you, but you wouldn't answer your intercom." She had a red wrap dress with a navy blue belt at the smallest part of her waist. A white headband with small blue polka dots adorned her blue curls completed her festive look. "Your neighbor buzzed me in. Everyone is waiting—" It took her a few beats to notice Gajeel in his military service uniform. "Whoa—"

"Whoa what?" Gajeel straighten his green jacket, making sure each honorable title on the breast was perfectly placed. "I hate wearing this thing…"

"I like it." Levy swooned, small heels clicked against his wooden floor. "It suits you."

"Thanks," Gajeel grumbled. "We better go."

"Yeah," Levy stepped in front of him and gently ran her hands from his collarbone to his sternum, fingers running over each pin and medal on his jacket. Gajeel gulped, watching her study the decorated titles and studying the name on his service tag; Sgt. G. Redfox. Her slender fingers felt the embroidered lettering, tracing each letter with the pads of her fingers. When she got to the end, he noticed tears welled at the corners of her eyes.

"Hey," Gajeel grabbed her chin to force her to look at him, but she pulled away. "Shrimp, what's wrong?" He tried again, but this time she pushed his hand away. "Levy? What's wrong?"

Levy bit her lip, trying to fight the quivering and the impending doom of her crying.

"Thank you." She swallowed, finally flickering her lashes away from the brink and looked up at Gajeel with her beautiful shining smile. A smile that made his heart constrict tightly in his chest.

"For what?"

"I never thanked you for serving." Levy smiled wider, fighting her tears with a small chuckle. "And I know you're going to say you had no other choice, but it was your choice. So…I want to thank you for that and…being alive and well."

The comrades he lost. The people that died under his supervision. As much as he drowned himself in his work and music, they have always haunted him like a shadow only getting taller and wider as the years go by. The dread and memories of what happened call to him and to blame himself for their deaths. The looming question repeated over and over as to why he was sparred? Someone who had nothing back home was given a chance to live when the others in his infantry had families and love ones waiting for them. For many years, Gajeel would try not to think like that, but nothing could pull him away from his darkness.

Until now.

Gajeel pulled her into a kiss, gripping her tight against him so she wouldn't pull away again. This time, she didn't resist. Levy's hands balled the lapels of his uniform into a tight fist, wrinkling the green fabric, though that didn't matter. In the short time knowing her, Levy had entered his world and for some reason she didn't run away like the others did. She continued to impress him in so many ways. He wondered what else this shorty had up her sleeves.

Whatever it was, Gajeel couldn't wait to see it. But right now, Memorial day—even though there wasn't a day gone by where he hasn't thought about his crew, it was a day to remember them and everyone else who served to protect this country.

And to remind himself to live for those who he had lost and protect those he loves.

Thank you to our armed forces, men and women, veterans and currently serving, for protecting our country and fighting for our freedom.

Happy Memorial Day.