redbyrd_sgfic (redbyrd_sgfic) wrote,
redbyrd_sgfic
redbyrd_sgfic

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And now for something completely different....

So I was chatting with  aurora_novarum , and we were trying to work out some of the details of Sam's history with Jonas Hanson for my interminably delayed S1 series.   And I wound up sketching out a scenelet that took place at the start of their relationship, after they returned from Desert Storm.   At first I thought I had actually committed a drabble!  (I never drabble- I'm far too wordy.)  But alas, no, this ran too long.  And it doesn't fit with the S1 series either, but it did make a nice bookend with a teensy little tag for The First Commandment:


The cherry blossoms blowing in the warm spring breeze lent the scene an improbable, inappropriate gaiety, far from the ruined city where these men, his friends, had died.

Sam stood at attention as the shots were fired, the words spoken, the flags lifted respectfully from the three polished coffins and folded. Hanson accepted the third flag for his teammate- Jeremy Franklin's family lived out west somewhere, and he had said the few relations he had weren't close.

As the small assembly dispersed Hanson lingered near the coffin. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small book, shiny-new with stiff covers. His Gideon bible. He laid it against the wood. The brash teasing facade she was accustomed to seeing was nowhere in evidence today.

Sam moved nearer. "He would have wanted you to keep it," she said quietly.

*

Sam stood at attention as the shots were fired, the words spoken, the flags lifted respectfully from the three polished coffins and folded. For security reasons, the government had declined to censure them postmortem. Hence dress blues in the chill April rain, and a small private ceremony at the military burial ground. Franks' coffin was flanked by those of his murderers. Lieutenant Connor, still heavily bandaged, stood beside Baker's wife, his face blank. The burns on his face were still angry and red.

Sam stepped forward to accept the third flag, Jonas' flag. He had family back east somewhere, but they weren't close. As the small assembly dispersed, Sam lingered near the coffin, damp with the spray of rain.

"You knew I would come, didn't you?" She asked softly.

Memory whispered back, "How could you not? Healer of the emotionally wounded. I was your one failure. The bird with the broken wing that wouldn't heal."

Sam swallowed hard, laid his worn Gideon bible on the polished wood, and turned away.

*

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