"Cap!" Allen looked over his shoulder from his place in front of the long row of graves. He smiled warmly as Gavin and Nines approached. It had been a while since they'd last seen each other. They both looked happy and healthy. It seemed time was doing a good job of healing old wounds. Looking further back, he could see Hank making his way over, too. The past two years had been a little harder on him, it seemed. He was now using an old cane to walk. "I see you found your way." It wasn't his first time. He'd actually returned to France earlier that year to join the search. Digging up old remains wasn't for everyone, especially when trying to figure out which parts belonged to which body. Despite the grim nature of his chosen path, he didn't regret it. The looks on the faces of grateful relatives was enough. The relief of being able to close that chapter and move on, something he and the Andersons were still denied.
He'd returned to the trenches. To the place he'd been injured. The place he'd lost Sixty. He didn't need to worry about Connor. His body was resting peacefully in the ground beneath his feet, but he hadn't found Sixty. He'd searched. Countless hours had been spent in the barren landscape of what had once been no man's land. He'd found countless abandoned bodies and even dug out more, but Sixty hadn't been among them. Perhaps he'd been missed somehow, or a stray shell had obliterated his body completely. The more time that passed, the more he doubted he'd ever find out.
"And you." It was their first time coming back, not that he could blame them. Plans were being made to ship some bodies back home, but the cost was high. Many relatives were content to leave the remains resting in France where they fell. So long as they were respectfully buried in a grave, it didn't truly matter where they lay. Nines and Gavin finally reached his side and looked down at the neat white stone. Nines' silvery eyes dimmed slightly as he looked down to find his brothers' names engraved on the cross. Although he hadn't found him yet, Allen was determined that he would, and when he did, he'd bury him here. It's what he would have wanted.
"Yeah, it's a nice little town. The locals were really helpful. Once we told them what we were looking for, they knew it straight away." Allen nodded his agreement. Meuse was really more of a village than a town, but it was a nice place. There weren't many American grave sites, so it made sense they'd point them here. The land had barely healed from the fighting that took place upon it. Grass had barely started to grow, and most headstones were still temporary wooden constructs, hurriedly placed in the aftermath. Since so many had fallen here already, it was rapidly becoming the designated American gravesite, and bodies were being brought from other places to rest here, like Connor.
"They've certainly been busy since we left." The battlegrounds had been dug up and re-laid, though trenches remained in many places. Bodies had been recovered and laid to rest or readied for transport back to their homes. Hank had received a letter asking for instructions for Connor's remains. He'd almost balked at the idea of having him dug up at all. It seemed cruel to disturb his rest and have him packed up like a piece of luggage just to be hauled across the ocean and placed somewhere else. He was far from home, but he liked to think he was at peace.
"We have. There are volunteers from just about every nation joining the effort…Hopeful relatives, mostly." It made sense. Everyone wanted answers. He knew Allen and Nines felt similarly about Sixty. Nines didn't have the heart or energy to do what Allen was doing, not to mention his responsibility with the surgery. "The locals as well, of course. Clean-up like this is a big part of the restoration effort. The bodies need to be safely laid to rest, and the land needs to heal." That wasn't even considering all the undetonated landmines and other bombs that could go off with the smallest touch. That was part of what made Allen so valuable in the restoration effort. He knew the best and safest ways to search for these things, and how to disable them once they were found. Most of them. A few of the designs were a little beyond him, but that's where the other men came in handy. They had veterans from many places on both sides joining the effort. If he didn't know, someone else often did. They could also sometimes warn each other about the location of known minefields and cordon them off.
"How are you doing, son?" Hank asked as he finally reached them. Allen accepted his hand and the tight embrace that followed. He could tell he was feeling it. Much like Nines, his aged blue eyes showed the pain all too clearly. He remained focused on him for now, likely working himself up to finally confronting the resting place of his oldest sons. Allen gave him a smile of understanding as he stepped back to give him a little space.
"Good…Elijah's latest prosthetics have been a lifesaver out here. I doubt I would have been able to walk in the dirt around here with my first set." Gavin understood what he meant right away. Trench mud was the worst. It was almost more like sludge than mud. That stuff would suck you down right away, and good luck if you got that shit inside anything mechanical. It would seize the joints right away. Allen's boots and waterproof pants were protecting the joints, but the sludge also worked like quicksand. It really pulled at the straps when you tried to pull free. The newer prosthetics were lighter, fit better, and they were better balanced.
"He'll be pleased to hear that. He's been coming on leaps and bounds with this shit recently. His students have been great for bouncing ideas and helping with experiments." Every time Gavin spoke to Elijah, he seemed to have a new bright, upcoming student with wild ideas. He was an excellent teacher. If they had ideas, he let them try them out, even if it was something he knew would fail. So long as it wasn't dangerous, he thought it was good for them. Nothing taught so well as failure. It encouraged them to re-set and try again.
"And how are Chloe and Connie?" Allen smiled as Gavin pulled a picture from his jacket pocket and handed it over. He chuckled as he looked down at the family portrait. Chloe sat in a comfortable chair, holding Connie on her knee, facing the camera. They were both wearing flowing dresses that looked pale grey in the picture, but may have been any light colour. It was hard to capture such things in black and white. Connie's dark hair had been tied in little tails while Chloe's rested over her shoulder as usual. Elijah stood just behind the chair with his hand out of sight across Chloe's back, dressed in a neat suit with his hair brushed and tied. They weren't exactly smiling. That wasn't a thing to do in portraits, but they looked happy despite that. Their closeness was obvious. "She's getting so big!"
"Phck, you're telling me! I swear, she'll be as tall as my knee by the time we get back!" Gavin joked as he took back the picture and crouched to hold it up level with the headstone. Allen said nothing as he watched. Nines and Hank did their best to stifle their own quiet grief as Gavin pointed at the little girl on Chloe's knee. "I know she didn't get the chance to tell you before, but this is Connie…Sorry I can't show you anything in colour, but maybe when she's a little older we'll bring her to see you in person. She's definitely your daughter! Look at that face! You should see her eyes, too. Hazel puppy eyes, just like her dad…You don't need to worry about her. Elijah phcking dotes on her. Chloe, too." Gavin wondered what Connor would say if he was there. He'd probably have a heart attack at the news he was a father, but he liked to think he'd be happy, too. He couldn't imagine anyone not being happy, considering how damned cute Connie was. "You going to fill him in?" Gavin asked as he looked over his shoulder.
"I-um…Gavin and I are living together now, in Detroit, and I opened a surgery as I planned before." Nines was a little stiff as he spoke to the white stone. Speaking to a rock made him feel a little strange. He wasn't particularly religious, especially since the war. Even if ghosts or spirits were real, and he wasn't sure they were, he very much doubted Connor would be hovering around his grave waiting for visitors. If he was anywhere, he'd been in America watching over Chloe and Connie, or perhaps he would have remained to find Sixty first. He couldn't imagine him leaving without Sixty. They'd always been extremely close.
"And I'm selling the old house…Hope you don't mind, but I gave away most of your old stuff. It was doing no good just sitting there, and my new place is much smaller." Hank laid a gentle hand on Nines' shoulder as he joined the conversation. Nines nodded his meek agreement. Some of the more useful things, like Connor's medical bag and books, had gone to a local veterinarian school. His furniture had either been given to Chloe or Nines, or donated to those in need. His clothes were a little small for Nines, so they'd also been donated. Hank had kept his pictures and journals, setting them on their own bookcase. The photos had been stored in albums to stand alongside the journals. Those from his time at the front hadn't even been read. It was still too fresh. Hank wasn't sure he'd ever read them, but kept them as a precious keepsake. He'd even kept some childhood reminders. His old teddy bear, and Sixty's wooden soldier collection.
"You should see this place! Got himself a swanky little cabin, right by a lake on the edge of Detroit! He's spending so much time down by the water, I'm beginning to think he might be a mermaid." Gavin grumbled to the stone as if he were sharing a secret. Hank huffed and ruffled his brunette locks, adding to the untidiness. Hank had taken well to retirement. He spent long hours sitting on a chair at the end of his own small wooden dock with his fishing rod. It was true that Gavin and Nines found him there almost every time they visited, and every time they visited, it would be fish for dinner.
The cabin was more like a lodge, really. It was solid wood, only one story tall, with two bedrooms. He'd thought he'd need an extra room for visitors. There was a stone fireplace that roared through the winter and warmed the front room. On the coldest nights, he often slept on the sofa instead of in his bed. Nines would probably complain if he knew, but he wasn't there most of the time anyway. It was the perfect retirement home. Exactly what he'd imagined. He was just sad that two of his sons would never see it.
"I'm glad they brought you here…It's a pretty nice place." Hank looked around at the endless sea of stone and wood crosses that littered the area in even rows. It was still a little rough around the edges. The earth was still churned from battle and had been dug over more than once to arrange the new graves. Sections were only just beginning to take shape, and so far, barely a fifth of the stones were fresh and white. It was going to be a long, slow process to get things finished. Despite that, he could see it taking shape, and picture a time in the future where it would be a true tribute to those they'd lost. "I heard they're planning to build a permanent memorial here. Is that right?" Hank asked as he turned to Allen, who seemed to be the most knowledgeable.
"It's a long way off, but that'll be the plan eventually…Right now, the focus is on getting the men laid to rest and seeing that everyone is named and in the right place." A long and arduous task indeed. Hank didn't envy them, and he respected Allen endlessly for taking up such a task. He knew he'd tried his best so far and helped countless others along the way. He was bringing people more peace than he knew. "I know we won't be able to identify everyone, but…" Hank nodded his understanding. It was a job worth doing. Everyone deserved a proper burial. No matter which side. No matter if they were named or not. Every loss was a loss, and every name was a family at peace.
They remained a while longer, catching up and sharing memories. Gavin always engaged Connor as if he was there. He spoke to the cross as if it were human. Allen understood that. He did the same, though he usually held the conversations in his head. Sometimes he could imagine Sixty sitting on the cross with one knee crossed over the other, or lounging beside him in the grass. He spent a lot of time here between searches. He always told him off for running off and getting himself lost like that. Hide and seek was a game for children, and not something he particularly enjoyed in this context. Sixty would always give him that mischievous smirk and an innocent shrug in response.
"You coming?" Gavin asked as they headed off. Nines and Hank had already walked ahead, sharing their silent grief after saying goodbye. This would likely be Hank's only visit. He didn't have the heart to return, and travelling wasn't as comfortable as it used to be. Allen smiled as he settled on the barely grown grass in front of the cross and leaned back on his hands.
"I'll meet you in the village later…There's a little more I wanted to say first." Gavin nodded his understanding, agreeing that they'd see him in the local inn later. The three of them were staying there, much to the keeper's delight. The widow didn't get many guests these days, so soon after the war, and she'd certainly taken a liking to Hank. Gavin grinned at the memory of the two of them flirting so shamelessly in different languages. He wasn't sure if they even understood each other. It didn't seem to matter. The old man's a silver fox!
Allen stretched out his tired legs with a sigh as Gavin left him. He understood what he meant by prosthetic fatigue. Sixty always yelled at him for overdoing it during his visits. His grey eyes warmed as he gazed at the cross. You're as elusive as ever. Countless men laid to rest, and none of them were Sixty. He sighed as he lay back, enjoying the summer sun on his face as he closed his eyes. If you don't hurry and show yourself, I'm going to leave you in whatever ditch you fell in! They both knew it was an idle threat. He'd be searching until his dying day. Maybe even longer than that…
It was a fine day. Warm and sunny with just the right amount of breeze. It was the sort of day that used to make the front bearable. A day the sludge would dry out a little. A day he and Sixty would leave their jackets behind as they lounged together in a quiet corner and spoke in hushed tones. They'd play cards. Read letters. Sit beside each other and let their fingers brush. They rarely risked more until nightfall when they could hide in the shadows. He ached for those times, despite the danger. He ached for the chance to go back and try again. To avoid the shell, stay closer to Sixty, order the retreat before he lost him.
He took a breath, stifling the regret. Such thoughts wouldn't help or change anything. He could almost hear Sixty's voice telling him so as he stood above him. When he was alone, he could often hear him close by. He could hear it clearly. The even sound of steps in the grass alongside the breeze as it swept through the massive open space. It sounded so real he could almost believe he'd really come back. He smiled at the thought. That would be so much like him, just turning up out of the blue to stare down at him with his usual grin. Allen frowned as a shadow fell across his face, blocking the sun's warmth. Did Gavin come back? He opened his eyes with a blink. The sun was high in the sky, almost blinding him despite the figure above blocking his view. He squinted through the brightness, trying to identify the visitor. It was definitely a man, but he knew it wasn't Gavin. He was too tall and lithe. He was startled as the man fell to his knees above his head and leaned down. Something wet splashed his cheek, despite the cloudless sky.
"Hi David."