Fic: Salute (for WAHP at lostcityfound)
Title: Salute
Author: angelqueen04
Summary: It was supposed to be a memorial service, a way of thanking the dead.
Rating: PG
Type/Pairings: Evan Lorne/Elizabeth Weir
Characters: Evan Lorne, Richard Woolsey, etc.
Spoilers: general spoilers for the entire series.
Warnings: Multiple character deaths, canon and otherwise.
Beta: peanutbutterer (who is an absolute star for looking at this on such short notice)
Author’s Notes: For the ‘We’ll Always Have Pegasus’ challenge at lostcityfound. My chosen prompt was ‘Elizabeth Weir/Evan Lorne - victory came with a cost.’
The Gate room had rarely been so crowded. Procedure dictated that the room be kept clear in anticipation of unscheduled off-world activations or teams returning home under enemy fire. Today was an exception. If the wormhole activated now it would scatter the entire expedition - scientists in their best suits, military personnel in their dress uniforms - and each and every one would be wearing the same stark expression.
Evan stood near the front of the crowd. He hadn’t chosen the location, but recognized the benefit of keeping his back to the darkening clouds that were accumulating just within view of the control tower. To the clouds and to the rest of the expedition. He shifted from one foot to the other. Unlike most, he was comfortable in his dress blues. They weren’t overly scratchy or tight, though maybe a little stiff from disuse. There were so few occasions that he’d had to wear them; but since he had been stationed on Atlantis he had dreaded each and every one.
It was supposed to be a memorial service, a way of thanking those who had paid the ultimate price for their role in bringing the downfall of the Wraith, for freeing the humans of Pegasus from their oppression. To Evan it felt more like a meaningless political ploy, one devoid completely of the true emotion it should have conveyed.
There were certainly enough politicians there. The three principle IOA representatives, Ambassadors Shen, Marlow, and Markov, stood near the podium that had been set up in front of the Gate, haloed by its ring; as if that would convey more gravity to the scene. All three of them seemed to be trying to outdo each other in appearing self-important. There were even a few senators present and the Secretary of Defense, the first Cabinet member to make the trip to Pegasus.
Evan glanced down the line of teams gathered to mourn. His team was present, along with several others, but his eyes were drawn to the three that were conspicuously missing their fourth. They had won the war, but the cost had been high.
Movement caught his eye and Evan turned back to the podium. Mr. Woolsey was approaching, dressed in one of the stiff suits Evan used to see him wear when he poked in and out of the SGC. Now it was strange not to see him dressed in the grey and red uniform of Atlantis’ command staff.
Woolsey cleared his throat and shuffled some papers before raising his gaze to the room. His voice was clear when he spoke. “We have all gathered here today to honor the members of this expedition who could not be here with us to celebrate the conclusion of a long-fought war. Each and every one of them assisted in the search for a better future for not just the Atlantis expedition, but for all of the inhabitants of this galaxy.” He paused briefly before continuing. “There are no words that can adequately express the losses we have endured so many times these past years, no expression that can assuage the grief we feel over the deaths of so many friends and colleagues.”
Woolsey was right in that. There were no words that would make those deaths right. The Stargate Program, and subsequently the Atlantis expedition, had brought many new wonders to Earth and its people, but those wonders had come at the cost of many great men and women.
“… feel. As a small tribute to those who fell in the service of their country, their world,” Woolsey was saying, “I will read now the names of all those who died in service. Let their names be inscribed within all of us, that they may not be forgotten.”
Again, Woolsey paused to look down at his notes. Evan didn’t begrudge him the time, it was a long list of names.
“Colonel Marshall Sumner,” Woolsey began. “Sergeant James Markham, Doctor Brendan Gaul, Doctor Harry Abrams.”
Evan hadn’t known any of those men. Sumner hadn’t been stationed at the SGC, and neither had Markham. Still, he’d heard quite a bit about the latter from Stackhouse, who was always happy to regale everyone within earshot of the exploits of his friend who had died just before Atlantis re-established contact with Earth. Doctors Gaul and Abrams hadn’t been stationed at Area 51 either. Still, it in no way diminished their loss. There were many members of the expedition who had known them. Radek, Evan was certain, had known all four of them. McKay had even witnessed one of their deaths personally.
“… Peter Grodin, Colonel Dillon Everett, Lieutenant Aiden Ford…”
Three men who fell to the Wraith in one way or another. Everett had been at the SGC, commander of SG-22 for about three years before he’d led the support team to Atlantis. Evan hadn’t seen the man when he was brought back, but he had heard the rumors. He’d even attended the memorial service when he had finally passed three days later. He’d also heard about Peter Grodin. Ford, well, Ford had shot him. Evan was just grateful it had only been a Wraith stunner instead of a P-90.
“… Griffin, Doctor Gregory Collins, Lieutenant Alfred Morrison…”
Evan let out a long breath. The list had now reached those he knew personally. Al Morrison had been a stand-up guy with a great sense of humor; Greg Collins had been rather geeky, but still sedate enough that he could handle McKay’s diva tantrums. It was hard to hear of absent friends, but the hardest, Evan knew, was still to come.
“Sergeant Edwin Cole, Captain Alicia Vega…”
Ed Cole was someone else Evan had wished he’d gotten to know better before his death at the hands of the then-amnesiac Michael. He’d heard some of the veteran Marines whisper about Cole, likening his strict adherence to protocol and duty to Horatio Bates. Alicia Vega too.
“Doctor Kate Heightmeyer, Doctor Elizabeth Weir, Doctor Jennifer Keller, and Colonel John Sheppard.”
Evan fought the urge to clench his fists. Those last four had all been dear friends.
Contrary to popular belief, not everyone was a product of Bert Mackenzie’s seemingly intentional efforts to make all military personnel hate shrinks. No, Evan had liked Doc Heightmeyer. She’d been a great conversationalist even outside of her office. Doctor Keller had been nice enough to, once she’d gotten her gate-legs under her. Colonel Sheppard had quite possibly been the best CO Evan had ever served under, beating out even Colonel Reynolds, good man that he was.
Then there was Elizabeth. No matter what happened, it seemed, it always came back to her. Every single member of the expedition had mourned her. Many had teared up at the mention of her name for weeks, while others’ stoic façades couldn’t hide their grief. Everyone had noticed the pain in Colonel Sheppard’s eyes and his determination to find her. It had become so undeniable that it made even Evan wonder if Sheppard had been in love with her. Not that he would have blamed the man. He didn’t wonder, though, if she was in love with him.
Evan let his eyes drift shut a moment before shaking himself out of the past. Woolsey seemed to have finished his speech and was stepping away from the podium. Another ambassador stood to take his place, and Evan bit down on his sigh.
The service concluded when the final politician finished their flowery eulogy meant more to impress the living than commemorate the dead. Afterward, Evan obediently trailed the others toward the commissary, though he didn’t mingle. In fact, few people spoke. What conversation did occur was a result only of half-hearted attempts to quiet the room’s silence.
Finally, mercifully, the politicians began their exit. The control room opened the wormhole and allowed them convenient passage back to Earth. With their departure a weight seemed to be lifted from the expedition and, piece by piece, they began to pull themselves back together. Woolsey no longer appeared as though he was two shades away from having a heart attack, Ronon no longer looked like he was about to commit mass murder, and Teyla allowed herself to leave McKay’s side, no longer afraid that he would offend someone.
Evan also noted that, as if sensing Atlantis’ disposition, the dark clouds that had threatened thunderstorms and torrents of rain had, for the most part, given way to a muted drizzle. Rather than the harsh weather that was expected, the sky broke into something like a cool autumn day in the Midwest, where the rain pressed down steadily in sheets, but its soft caress soothed rather than frightened.
Slowly, people began to move. Some wandered to the buffet where the food was still laid out, others to get to drinks - Evan grinned to himself as he wondered if anyone had spiked the punch before the politicians left - still others began to congregate into groups. Eventually the room came alive again with the sound of conversation and laughter.
Evan kept himself apart from the others, refusing to join any particular group or conversation. Instead he milled about, testing the food, sampling the punch, and wandering the room to catch snippets and pieces of as many stories as possible.
“Captain Vega ended up covered in this sauce…”
“… Ed saved the little girl when she choked on…”
“Jennifer liked escargot, if you can believe it…”
“… Weir practically tackled Sheppard after Caldwell beamed him down from the Daedalus. You think they were…”
It was that last conversation that made Evan grimace. He took the next opportunity he had to slip away from the crowd, seeking a bit of solitude at the base of one of the large glass windows. He discarded his plate but kept his warm mug, letting his focus blur as he stared out at the rain.
People had always wondered about Elizabeth and Sheppard. The two were so often in sync with one another that they rarely had to use words to communicate. A nod or a look was usually all that it took to pass some message between them. To many of the people that had witnessed it, their connection often seemed to be more than it was. But Evan knew from Elizabeth herself that nothing had ever happened between her and the colonel.
He smiled remembering their late night talks about old and possible future flames. What did he expect, after all? The two of them had never been normal. He’d been surprised when she’d asked him about Kate and Miko, but he’d figured fair was fair and specifically asked about her relationship with Sheppard, and even Beckett. She had always been especially close to both men.
No one had ever wondered about her relationship with him. Evan had always thought that had been something of a relief to her. It let her feel safe and protected. Let them wonder about what she might be up to with John Sheppard, a relationship that would never truly be. With the focus on the wrong shell, no one would even take note of catching her in the corridors near Evan’s quarters late in the evening. Appearances mattered to Elizabeth; they had to in her line of work.
Evan still remembered those hellish days following the Asuran attack on Atlantis. He had been so busy with helping to make sure Elizabeth had a city to wake up to that he’d never had a chance to visit her while she lay comatose in the infirmary. He hadn’t even had an opportunity to speak to her before she left on her mission to once again save the city. If he had to guess, he’d think that she had purposefully avoided him.
The last time he’d truly seen her was the morning before the attack. He’d woken up to her trying to quietly extract herself from his arms. Like always, she was unsuccessful. Like always, he’d ignored her muttering something about getting to the control tower early, this time to be there before the Apollo arrived, and instead wrapped her up even more tightly and pulled her back into bed. That particular morning it had been another half-hour before she’d finally left.
Her last words still reverberated in his mind. “You’d think we were on borrowed time the way you carry on.” It was almost as if Elizabeth had poked fate in the eye, and fate had backhanded her right back.
Evan closed his eyes and shook his head. Those days after Elizabeth’s capture had been something of a haze. He had even considered sitting down with Kate to talk about it, and maybe even telling her everything. He had been sure he was going to completely lose it if he didn’t confide in someone, and she was the clear solution. Unfortunately, before he’d even had the opportunity, the city was dealing with an alien entity that attacked dreams and the subconscious and by the time that was over he’d not only threatened his commanding officers, but Kate was dead.
Ultimately, he had decided to keep his own confidence. He worked through what he could on his own. He had a job to do, after all, and a galaxy to help save. There was no time wallow, and if each time he walked through a wormhole and didn’t find Elizabeth on the other end it got a little easier, then that just meant he was doing what he was supposed to do.
Now, though, in the aftermath of another battle and even more loss, for just a few moments it still felt as painful as that first night alone had. The battle was over and most of the Wraith were either dead or deep in hiding, but it had cost them Keller and Sheppard in the last moments. McKay was devastated by the loss of both the woman he loved and his closest friend in the span of a few minutes. Evan himself was more wearied than anything. He’d endured the same loss as McKay nearly two years ago, and he’d survived. Just like he had, McKay would get through it.
Each successive death called into question whether or not Atlantis and what they were doing here was really worth it. Hell, that was probably a question that the people of Earth would ask when the Stargate Program and the Atlantis Expedition inevitably went public. But for Evan, it wasn’t really a question. He knew what the answer was because he knew almost exactly what each of those who had paid the price would answer.
Well, Elizabeth would probably say something utterly profound, quoting Martin Luther King Jr. or the Dalai Lama or some other famous figure. Sheppard or Vega would say something that everyone could understand.
“This, all of this, it’s bigger than all of us. Earth’s just one little piece of a gigantic puzzle, and it can’t ignore that forever and just poke around the Moon or Mars. And as for all that moral stuff, didn’t Samwise Gamgee tell Frodo Baggins something about there being some good in the world worth fighting for? We should go watch that again. Good movie.”
Evan opened his eyes to find his own reflection grinning back at him. However, there was something else in the glass as well. He knew it was just his imagination putting his thoughts to form; but still, seeing the reflections of his friends, of Elizabeth, of Sheppard, of Morrison, and all the others who had been honoured that day was a little startling. After a moment, though, Evan’s grin evolved into a small smirk. One that they all seemed to return.
Evan chuckled quietly. Silly though it was, he couldn’t restrain the urge to salute them with his cup, so he raised it before taking a sip. They were dead and gone, all of them, he knew that, but maybe, just maybe, a part of them was still here.
Author: angelqueen04
Summary: It was supposed to be a memorial service, a way of thanking the dead.
Rating: PG
Type/Pairings: Evan Lorne/Elizabeth Weir
Characters: Evan Lorne, Richard Woolsey, etc.
Spoilers: general spoilers for the entire series.
Warnings: Multiple character deaths, canon and otherwise.
Beta: peanutbutterer (who is an absolute star for looking at this on such short notice)
Author’s Notes: For the ‘We’ll Always Have Pegasus’ challenge at lostcityfound. My chosen prompt was ‘Elizabeth Weir/Evan Lorne - victory came with a cost.’
The Gate room had rarely been so crowded. Procedure dictated that the room be kept clear in anticipation of unscheduled off-world activations or teams returning home under enemy fire. Today was an exception. If the wormhole activated now it would scatter the entire expedition - scientists in their best suits, military personnel in their dress uniforms - and each and every one would be wearing the same stark expression.
Evan stood near the front of the crowd. He hadn’t chosen the location, but recognized the benefit of keeping his back to the darkening clouds that were accumulating just within view of the control tower. To the clouds and to the rest of the expedition. He shifted from one foot to the other. Unlike most, he was comfortable in his dress blues. They weren’t overly scratchy or tight, though maybe a little stiff from disuse. There were so few occasions that he’d had to wear them; but since he had been stationed on Atlantis he had dreaded each and every one.
It was supposed to be a memorial service, a way of thanking those who had paid the ultimate price for their role in bringing the downfall of the Wraith, for freeing the humans of Pegasus from their oppression. To Evan it felt more like a meaningless political ploy, one devoid completely of the true emotion it should have conveyed.
There were certainly enough politicians there. The three principle IOA representatives, Ambassadors Shen, Marlow, and Markov, stood near the podium that had been set up in front of the Gate, haloed by its ring; as if that would convey more gravity to the scene. All three of them seemed to be trying to outdo each other in appearing self-important. There were even a few senators present and the Secretary of Defense, the first Cabinet member to make the trip to Pegasus.
Evan glanced down the line of teams gathered to mourn. His team was present, along with several others, but his eyes were drawn to the three that were conspicuously missing their fourth. They had won the war, but the cost had been high.
Movement caught his eye and Evan turned back to the podium. Mr. Woolsey was approaching, dressed in one of the stiff suits Evan used to see him wear when he poked in and out of the SGC. Now it was strange not to see him dressed in the grey and red uniform of Atlantis’ command staff.
Woolsey cleared his throat and shuffled some papers before raising his gaze to the room. His voice was clear when he spoke. “We have all gathered here today to honor the members of this expedition who could not be here with us to celebrate the conclusion of a long-fought war. Each and every one of them assisted in the search for a better future for not just the Atlantis expedition, but for all of the inhabitants of this galaxy.” He paused briefly before continuing. “There are no words that can adequately express the losses we have endured so many times these past years, no expression that can assuage the grief we feel over the deaths of so many friends and colleagues.”
Woolsey was right in that. There were no words that would make those deaths right. The Stargate Program, and subsequently the Atlantis expedition, had brought many new wonders to Earth and its people, but those wonders had come at the cost of many great men and women.
“… feel. As a small tribute to those who fell in the service of their country, their world,” Woolsey was saying, “I will read now the names of all those who died in service. Let their names be inscribed within all of us, that they may not be forgotten.”
Again, Woolsey paused to look down at his notes. Evan didn’t begrudge him the time, it was a long list of names.
“Colonel Marshall Sumner,” Woolsey began. “Sergeant James Markham, Doctor Brendan Gaul, Doctor Harry Abrams.”
Evan hadn’t known any of those men. Sumner hadn’t been stationed at the SGC, and neither had Markham. Still, he’d heard quite a bit about the latter from Stackhouse, who was always happy to regale everyone within earshot of the exploits of his friend who had died just before Atlantis re-established contact with Earth. Doctors Gaul and Abrams hadn’t been stationed at Area 51 either. Still, it in no way diminished their loss. There were many members of the expedition who had known them. Radek, Evan was certain, had known all four of them. McKay had even witnessed one of their deaths personally.
“… Peter Grodin, Colonel Dillon Everett, Lieutenant Aiden Ford…”
Three men who fell to the Wraith in one way or another. Everett had been at the SGC, commander of SG-22 for about three years before he’d led the support team to Atlantis. Evan hadn’t seen the man when he was brought back, but he had heard the rumors. He’d even attended the memorial service when he had finally passed three days later. He’d also heard about Peter Grodin. Ford, well, Ford had shot him. Evan was just grateful it had only been a Wraith stunner instead of a P-90.
“… Griffin, Doctor Gregory Collins, Lieutenant Alfred Morrison…”
Evan let out a long breath. The list had now reached those he knew personally. Al Morrison had been a stand-up guy with a great sense of humor; Greg Collins had been rather geeky, but still sedate enough that he could handle McKay’s diva tantrums. It was hard to hear of absent friends, but the hardest, Evan knew, was still to come.
“Sergeant Edwin Cole, Captain Alicia Vega…”
Ed Cole was someone else Evan had wished he’d gotten to know better before his death at the hands of the then-amnesiac Michael. He’d heard some of the veteran Marines whisper about Cole, likening his strict adherence to protocol and duty to Horatio Bates. Alicia Vega too.
“Doctor Kate Heightmeyer, Doctor Elizabeth Weir, Doctor Jennifer Keller, and Colonel John Sheppard.”
Evan fought the urge to clench his fists. Those last four had all been dear friends.
Contrary to popular belief, not everyone was a product of Bert Mackenzie’s seemingly intentional efforts to make all military personnel hate shrinks. No, Evan had liked Doc Heightmeyer. She’d been a great conversationalist even outside of her office. Doctor Keller had been nice enough to, once she’d gotten her gate-legs under her. Colonel Sheppard had quite possibly been the best CO Evan had ever served under, beating out even Colonel Reynolds, good man that he was.
Then there was Elizabeth. No matter what happened, it seemed, it always came back to her. Every single member of the expedition had mourned her. Many had teared up at the mention of her name for weeks, while others’ stoic façades couldn’t hide their grief. Everyone had noticed the pain in Colonel Sheppard’s eyes and his determination to find her. It had become so undeniable that it made even Evan wonder if Sheppard had been in love with her. Not that he would have blamed the man. He didn’t wonder, though, if she was in love with him.
Evan let his eyes drift shut a moment before shaking himself out of the past. Woolsey seemed to have finished his speech and was stepping away from the podium. Another ambassador stood to take his place, and Evan bit down on his sigh.
The service concluded when the final politician finished their flowery eulogy meant more to impress the living than commemorate the dead. Afterward, Evan obediently trailed the others toward the commissary, though he didn’t mingle. In fact, few people spoke. What conversation did occur was a result only of half-hearted attempts to quiet the room’s silence.
Finally, mercifully, the politicians began their exit. The control room opened the wormhole and allowed them convenient passage back to Earth. With their departure a weight seemed to be lifted from the expedition and, piece by piece, they began to pull themselves back together. Woolsey no longer appeared as though he was two shades away from having a heart attack, Ronon no longer looked like he was about to commit mass murder, and Teyla allowed herself to leave McKay’s side, no longer afraid that he would offend someone.
Evan also noted that, as if sensing Atlantis’ disposition, the dark clouds that had threatened thunderstorms and torrents of rain had, for the most part, given way to a muted drizzle. Rather than the harsh weather that was expected, the sky broke into something like a cool autumn day in the Midwest, where the rain pressed down steadily in sheets, but its soft caress soothed rather than frightened.
Slowly, people began to move. Some wandered to the buffet where the food was still laid out, others to get to drinks - Evan grinned to himself as he wondered if anyone had spiked the punch before the politicians left - still others began to congregate into groups. Eventually the room came alive again with the sound of conversation and laughter.
Evan kept himself apart from the others, refusing to join any particular group or conversation. Instead he milled about, testing the food, sampling the punch, and wandering the room to catch snippets and pieces of as many stories as possible.
“Captain Vega ended up covered in this sauce…”
“… Ed saved the little girl when she choked on…”
“Jennifer liked escargot, if you can believe it…”
“… Weir practically tackled Sheppard after Caldwell beamed him down from the Daedalus. You think they were…”
It was that last conversation that made Evan grimace. He took the next opportunity he had to slip away from the crowd, seeking a bit of solitude at the base of one of the large glass windows. He discarded his plate but kept his warm mug, letting his focus blur as he stared out at the rain.
People had always wondered about Elizabeth and Sheppard. The two were so often in sync with one another that they rarely had to use words to communicate. A nod or a look was usually all that it took to pass some message between them. To many of the people that had witnessed it, their connection often seemed to be more than it was. But Evan knew from Elizabeth herself that nothing had ever happened between her and the colonel.
He smiled remembering their late night talks about old and possible future flames. What did he expect, after all? The two of them had never been normal. He’d been surprised when she’d asked him about Kate and Miko, but he’d figured fair was fair and specifically asked about her relationship with Sheppard, and even Beckett. She had always been especially close to both men.
No one had ever wondered about her relationship with him. Evan had always thought that had been something of a relief to her. It let her feel safe and protected. Let them wonder about what she might be up to with John Sheppard, a relationship that would never truly be. With the focus on the wrong shell, no one would even take note of catching her in the corridors near Evan’s quarters late in the evening. Appearances mattered to Elizabeth; they had to in her line of work.
Evan still remembered those hellish days following the Asuran attack on Atlantis. He had been so busy with helping to make sure Elizabeth had a city to wake up to that he’d never had a chance to visit her while she lay comatose in the infirmary. He hadn’t even had an opportunity to speak to her before she left on her mission to once again save the city. If he had to guess, he’d think that she had purposefully avoided him.
The last time he’d truly seen her was the morning before the attack. He’d woken up to her trying to quietly extract herself from his arms. Like always, she was unsuccessful. Like always, he’d ignored her muttering something about getting to the control tower early, this time to be there before the Apollo arrived, and instead wrapped her up even more tightly and pulled her back into bed. That particular morning it had been another half-hour before she’d finally left.
Her last words still reverberated in his mind. “You’d think we were on borrowed time the way you carry on.” It was almost as if Elizabeth had poked fate in the eye, and fate had backhanded her right back.
Evan closed his eyes and shook his head. Those days after Elizabeth’s capture had been something of a haze. He had even considered sitting down with Kate to talk about it, and maybe even telling her everything. He had been sure he was going to completely lose it if he didn’t confide in someone, and she was the clear solution. Unfortunately, before he’d even had the opportunity, the city was dealing with an alien entity that attacked dreams and the subconscious and by the time that was over he’d not only threatened his commanding officers, but Kate was dead.
Ultimately, he had decided to keep his own confidence. He worked through what he could on his own. He had a job to do, after all, and a galaxy to help save. There was no time wallow, and if each time he walked through a wormhole and didn’t find Elizabeth on the other end it got a little easier, then that just meant he was doing what he was supposed to do.
Now, though, in the aftermath of another battle and even more loss, for just a few moments it still felt as painful as that first night alone had. The battle was over and most of the Wraith were either dead or deep in hiding, but it had cost them Keller and Sheppard in the last moments. McKay was devastated by the loss of both the woman he loved and his closest friend in the span of a few minutes. Evan himself was more wearied than anything. He’d endured the same loss as McKay nearly two years ago, and he’d survived. Just like he had, McKay would get through it.
Each successive death called into question whether or not Atlantis and what they were doing here was really worth it. Hell, that was probably a question that the people of Earth would ask when the Stargate Program and the Atlantis Expedition inevitably went public. But for Evan, it wasn’t really a question. He knew what the answer was because he knew almost exactly what each of those who had paid the price would answer.
Well, Elizabeth would probably say something utterly profound, quoting Martin Luther King Jr. or the Dalai Lama or some other famous figure. Sheppard or Vega would say something that everyone could understand.
“This, all of this, it’s bigger than all of us. Earth’s just one little piece of a gigantic puzzle, and it can’t ignore that forever and just poke around the Moon or Mars. And as for all that moral stuff, didn’t Samwise Gamgee tell Frodo Baggins something about there being some good in the world worth fighting for? We should go watch that again. Good movie.”
Evan opened his eyes to find his own reflection grinning back at him. However, there was something else in the glass as well. He knew it was just his imagination putting his thoughts to form; but still, seeing the reflections of his friends, of Elizabeth, of Sheppard, of Morrison, and all the others who had been honoured that day was a little startling. After a moment, though, Evan’s grin evolved into a small smirk. One that they all seemed to return.
Evan chuckled quietly. Silly though it was, he couldn’t restrain the urge to salute them with his cup, so he raised it before taking a sip. They were dead and gone, all of them, he knew that, but maybe, just maybe, a part of them was still here.