"In Memory" (1/1)
Title: “In Memory” (1/1) Gen
Author: Kristen999
Rating: K+
Words: 600
Spoilers: None
Summary: Once a year, the people of Atlantis take time to remember.
Notes: Written for sharpes_hussy who wanted John's thoughts during Memorial Day.
Big thank you to ga_unicornfor the quick beta!
The metal pods stand row by row, their epitaph a simple marker of name and rank, of dirt, of artificial stasis . There's no graveyard, only this temporary resting place before the final flight home aboard the Daedalus. John stands for them, head bowed in search of prayers for which he lacks the words. Flowers decorate the pedestals, yellows, reds, purples, streams of every color from every near-by world touched by those who fell for them.
Their mothers and fathers will never know of their heroic service, of the wonders shared, of the horrors never forgotten. They will have letters of remorse and a box of medals. John will have more sleepless nights.
Shoulders stiff and back straight he gives them one final salute, before turning away in silence.
The rest of the expedition gathers in the largest common area in their best suits and dress uniforms. John's over starched collar is too stiff around his neck and he loosens it, fidgeting with the buttons. He listens to Woolsey's speech of praise and hope, words mingling with the memory of the last ones John had spoken to his men. The ones they'd followed, resulting in their deaths.
A good leader gives those tough orders and must live with the consequences.
Carson plays an old Scottish hymn on the bagpipes and on the final note, the band starts. None of them are professionals, a few played in marching squads, some in high schools, others during quiet nights with a cold beer. Trumpet, saxophone, even drums. Since they don't have the proper numbers for a full ensemble, Ronon plays on a handmade Satedan guitar to fill in the gaps. It's a hodgepodge of mostly in key and slightly off-note. But it's them. It's Atlantis.
Singing an Athosian song of Remembrance, Teyla's voice is the perfect blend of beauty and solemnity. Woolsey gathers a torch and goes to the head of each science department, igniting theirs.
Rodney gulps, eyes wide at the flame, but his hands are steady and strong in testament of what it symbolizes and he passes it on to those behind him.
Twenty-seven in all. One for every civilian death.
Bearing the flame for his men, John takes his and lights Lorne's, and together they light sixty-seven more. Falling back behind the band he follows them down the hall and outside. Flags of stars and stripes, eagles and crosses, of every nation and ally of Atlantis flap in the ocean breeze.
The parade marches toward a wall of obsidian, bearing the names of all those who have laid down their life for their home. A cauldron burns brightly, reflecting off the memorial, and one by one they take their torches and add them to the eternal flame. Neither wind nor rain will ever extinguish it. John's jaw tightens at the sight, knowing that the memories of the fallen will always be a part of the city. A part of them.
The city chaplain reads a prayer and John half listens to the homily about sacrifice and honor. Hope and duty.
Lieutenant Reid steps forward trumpet in hand and the familiar notes to “Taps” echo off the towers, reminding everyone that even soldiers are allowed to shed tears. John holds on to his, saving them for later as the names of those who've perished are spoken out loud. It's unusual to recognize civilians during military tradition, but this isn't Earth and here they honor everyone.
John's still standing, still remembering at the end of the ceremony, stepping toward the memorial, to splay his hand over those immortalized there.
But he's not alone, the shadows of his team wait close by, and they will leave together and drink and eat and toast those they've come here to commemorate.
Author: Kristen999
Rating: K+
Words: 600
Spoilers: None
Summary: Once a year, the people of Atlantis take time to remember.
Notes: Written for sharpes_hussy who wanted John's thoughts during Memorial Day.
Big thank you to ga_unicornfor the quick beta!
The metal pods stand row by row, their epitaph a simple marker of name and rank, of dirt, of artificial stasis . There's no graveyard, only this temporary resting place before the final flight home aboard the Daedalus. John stands for them, head bowed in search of prayers for which he lacks the words. Flowers decorate the pedestals, yellows, reds, purples, streams of every color from every near-by world touched by those who fell for them.
Their mothers and fathers will never know of their heroic service, of the wonders shared, of the horrors never forgotten. They will have letters of remorse and a box of medals. John will have more sleepless nights.
Shoulders stiff and back straight he gives them one final salute, before turning away in silence.
The rest of the expedition gathers in the largest common area in their best suits and dress uniforms. John's over starched collar is too stiff around his neck and he loosens it, fidgeting with the buttons. He listens to Woolsey's speech of praise and hope, words mingling with the memory of the last ones John had spoken to his men. The ones they'd followed, resulting in their deaths.
A good leader gives those tough orders and must live with the consequences.
Carson plays an old Scottish hymn on the bagpipes and on the final note, the band starts. None of them are professionals, a few played in marching squads, some in high schools, others during quiet nights with a cold beer. Trumpet, saxophone, even drums. Since they don't have the proper numbers for a full ensemble, Ronon plays on a handmade Satedan guitar to fill in the gaps. It's a hodgepodge of mostly in key and slightly off-note. But it's them. It's Atlantis.
Singing an Athosian song of Remembrance, Teyla's voice is the perfect blend of beauty and solemnity. Woolsey gathers a torch and goes to the head of each science department, igniting theirs.
Rodney gulps, eyes wide at the flame, but his hands are steady and strong in testament of what it symbolizes and he passes it on to those behind him.
Twenty-seven in all. One for every civilian death.
Bearing the flame for his men, John takes his and lights Lorne's, and together they light sixty-seven more. Falling back behind the band he follows them down the hall and outside. Flags of stars and stripes, eagles and crosses, of every nation and ally of Atlantis flap in the ocean breeze.
The parade marches toward a wall of obsidian, bearing the names of all those who have laid down their life for their home. A cauldron burns brightly, reflecting off the memorial, and one by one they take their torches and add them to the eternal flame. Neither wind nor rain will ever extinguish it. John's jaw tightens at the sight, knowing that the memories of the fallen will always be a part of the city. A part of them.
The city chaplain reads a prayer and John half listens to the homily about sacrifice and honor. Hope and duty.
Lieutenant Reid steps forward trumpet in hand and the familiar notes to “Taps” echo off the towers, reminding everyone that even soldiers are allowed to shed tears. John holds on to his, saving them for later as the names of those who've perished are spoken out loud. It's unusual to recognize civilians during military tradition, but this isn't Earth and here they honor everyone.
John's still standing, still remembering at the end of the ceremony, stepping toward the memorial, to splay his hand over those immortalized there.
But he's not alone, the shadows of his team wait close by, and they will leave together and drink and eat and toast those they've come here to commemorate.