Jamie didn’t say anything, just sat there and tried to hold himself together. Alexei knew that feeling all too well. But looking at all those pictures of Kyle upstairs had reminded him of all the ones he had back home, and the ones their parents had saved in Boston. Years and years of memories, of growing up together, of having his brother in his life, made Alexei realize a hard, visceral truth in that moment.
Funerals were for the living as much as they were for the dead. But the way to keep a person alive was to remember them.
“Meet when we kids,” Alexei said, breaking the tension in the room, giving his captain time and room to breathe.
Charlotte turned her head to look at him as Jamie opened his eyes. Alexei met Jamie’s gaze across the table, tasting vodka on his tongue through the bone-deep hurt.
It didn’t taste like tears this time.
“Can tell you, if want?”
Charlotte didn’t let go of Jamie’s hand, but she smiled encouragingly at Alexei anyway, the same way his mother would have if she’d been the one sitting across from him.
“I’d like that,” Charlotte said.
Alexei opened his mouth to talk, holding onto Sean for all he was worth.
20
A Folded Flag After the War
Arlington in springtime was green.
Jamie thought he would always remember how it looked that morning, rows of white graves rising with the hills. The majority of people cremated their dead these days, but the military was a stickler for tradition.
In the distance, the extension of the sea walls along the Potomac River rose high above the shorter, tree-lined walls that enclosed Arlington National Cemetery. When the sea walls had been built farther inland, Washington, D.C., had been forced to reassess areas of the megacity nearest the river. Highways were diverted, eminent domain was used to take control of residential areas, and businesses and colleges were forced to relocate. The military, however, would not disrupt the dead.
Engineers in the past had worked hard to ensure Arlington could remain where it was. The sea wall project at the time had even given Arlington more room to expand, and new land had been cultivated, sectioned off, and reserved for the future dead.
Jamie’s black dress shoes barely made a sound on the winding black roads that curved between the graves. Amidst the green and white were clusters of mournful black, family members of the deceased come to lay their loved ones to rest.
It had been a week since the attack on the heart of the nation’s capital. Seven excruciating days that Jamie had lived in a fog of grief that seemed as if it would never lift. Even now, Jamie didn’t feel as if he were truly present in his body, the world muffled all around him. There was a hole where his heart lay and nothing left in the world could fill it.
A gloved hand slipped into his, mindful of the Mameluke sword he wore on his left hip, denoting his rank as an officer in the Marine Corps. Jamie looked over at his sister, watching as Leah’s mouth tipped up into a small, sad smile. While Jamie was in the full Marine dress blues uniform, the civilian members of his group wore stark black suits or dresses. In Leah’s case, a demure fascinator held a small black veil that covered her eyes.
“Here for you, big brother,” Leah said softly for his ears alone.
Jamie squeezed her hand gently, carefully, well aware he’d been forgetting his own strength over the past week. He faced forward again, eyes roving over the small crowd heading for the gravesite.
Jamie didn’t know the full casualty count—either military, civilian, or first responders—but he knew the president had made a point to praise those who had lost their lives serving their country. The president had embraced his role as comforter-in-chief mere hours after the attack, proving to the world he was still alive and in command. While Michael’s somber speech had gone over well with the media, it was the revelation of Alpha Team’s identities, and Jamie’s in particular, which had been driving the news stories not focused on the attack.
Footage of Jamie stopping the fire engine and executing Declan was on constant replay across dozens and dozens of news streams. All manner of rumors had run amok for days until Nazari, with permission from the president, had issued a statement on behalf of Jamie and the Callahan family, confirming his identity in the face of obvious evidence.
Richard had yet to make a statement beyond confirming that he’d known about Jamie’s classified identity and was proud of his son. Whether out of courtesy for Jamie’s fragile state of mind or in deference to his lawyers who were still combing through what they could legally disclose, Jamie didn’t care. He knew this reprieve was only temporary. Eventually, his father would use Jamie’s status to bolster his campaign. At the moment, Jamie could honestly give a fuck what his father decided to do.
Your mother will keep him in line, Katie said into Jamie’s mind from where she walked beside him on his right.
Maybe, Jamie conceded after a moment.
He didn’t doubt his mother would fight with his father about how best to move forward out of this mess that didn’t involve stepping all over Jamie to do so. Whether or not his father would listen was a different story entirely.
It’s your mother. My money would be on her.
Aren’t you supposed to not be using your telepathy? Wasn’t that Gracie’s order so you could heal?
I’d stop for anyone else but you.
Katie’s concern didn’t show on her face, but the fact she was still shadowing his thoughts told Jamie that Katie was still worried about his mental state. His entire team hadn’t left him alone for longer than a second, even while he was taking a piss. At the moment, his parents were behind him, but his team walked around him, a buffer between Jamie and the world that he both appreciated and loathed. On one hand, he was grateful for their support. On the other, he just wanted time alone to cry in peace.
The road ahead split in two, with everyone veering right. Their group of mourners, outside of his team and family, consisted of dignitaries from the military and federal agencies who’d had people guarding the White House during the attack.
Theirs wasn’t the only funeral happening in Arlington today, but it was the only funeral Jamie was making an appearance at. The gravesite came into view some minutes later, half the folding chairs already filled with mourners while still others chose to stand. Jamie’s group moved off the road and stepped onto the grass, mindful of the dead they walked over.
Many of the people who had already arrived were in full dress uniform, the majority of them sporting Strike Force’s coloring. The gray and black was a contrast to the Marine Corps’ coloring and Annabelle’s sole Air Force service uniform. Of his team, only Alexei wore the gray and black uniform of Strike Force, his gray beret shadowing his pale face on the right. Sean walked beside Alexei, the only one in the team to wear a suit, as he wasn’t military in the traditional sense.
The group made it to the gravesite, shade from a nearby oak tree dimming the sunlight. Quiet voices filled the air as those newly arriving began to salute or shake hands with those already there. Katie stepped away from Jamie to greet Matthew, but her thoughts were never far from his own. The rest of his team took turns greeting people and keeping Jamie company as the large group came together. With everyone busy trying to find their place amongst the remaining empty chairs reserved for VIPs, Jamie missed Nazari’s arrival.
“A moment, if you will, Captain Callahan.”
The director’s familiar voice drew Jamie out of his thoughts and he craned his head around. Nazari stood at the edge of the large group, brown eyes trained on Jamie. His team stepped aside, giving Jamie room to pass by them. He slipped free of the crowd, coming to stand before Nazari. The director was in his Army uniform, chest bristling with ribbons and medals and braid, three gold stars glittering on his collar on either side of his neck. Jamie snapped off a sharp salute in greeting, which Nazari returned.
“Walk with me,” Nazari said.
Jamie nodded and followed the director to the old oak
tree, the branches of which extended over the gravesite. It wasn’t too far away, but just far enough to give them the illusion of privacy. Jamie had no doubt that his team wouldn’t let anyone disturb them.
“I’m glad to see you looking better,” Nazari said.
Jamie absently scratched at his jaw. He’d shaved that morning, but only after his mother had reminded him to. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ve signed off on Dr. Elizabeth O’Malley handling your care. Your first appointment will be early next month.”
“Do I get a choice, sir?”
“No.” Nazari’s voice was firm but kind, and Jamie shifted his gaze from the far distance to Nazari’s face. “Neither you nor your team will be allowed to ignore the appointments being scheduled. That is nonnegotiable if you want to return to the field, Callahan.”
It was the first real confirmation Jamie had received on his status. In all honesty, Jamie had no idea what was happening outside the swirl of heavy emotion Katie couldn’t keep at bay. His thoughts were another matter entirely, and it was thanks to her that he could focus today, if only for a little while.
“You’ve benched us,” Jamie said.
“With good reason.”
Jamie flinched, wanting to run from the words, but running wouldn’t change a damn thing.
“The president is asking for a statement from you. I’ve explained you’re unavailable,” Nazari said.
“Thank you, sir.”
“With what is coming to light regarding the relationships within Alpha Team while you were in command, there will be an investigation into your conduct as an officer. I can’t sweep that away, nor would I, if given the option.”
Jamie swallowed tightly, feeling his heart clench in his chest. “I understand, sir.”
Nazari’s gaze was calm and assessing as he studied Jamie. “Regulations exist for a reason, Callahan. They are there as much to keep order as they are to keep you safe.”
Even if the MDF had been notified of Jamie and Kyle’s relationship and they’d been separated accordingly, it wouldn’t have stopped Jamie from worrying about Kyle, or loving him. He would always love Kyle, but in the end Jamie knew it would never be enough to absolve him of his sins—for shooting the man he loved in the heart and ripping out his own in the process.
There was no fighting a war with clean hands, no coming home whole, if one came home at all. In the end, Jamie’s decisions were his to own, but this was not the life he wanted to live.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Jamie said through numb lips.
“Apologies won’t change what happened, but I didn’t come here to get one. I understand why you chose to do what you did to win, Callahan.” Nazari paused for a moment before continuing. “I want you to remember you’re not alone in all this, no matter what happens from here on out.”
Jamie looked at the mourners filling the grass around the gravesite, grief an almost tangible thing. “This doesn’t feel like a victory, sir.”
“Perhaps in time it will.” Nazari patted him on the shoulder, nodding at the crowd. “Let’s get you back to your family. When this is over, you’ll follow me back to base.”
Jamie wasn’t sure he’d be up for any sort of meeting at the moment, but he knew better than most people that just because he wanted to rest didn’t mean he could.
Nazari escorted him back to the group of mourners, his team waiting for him on the outskirts, ready to pull him back into their protective embrace. Jamie ultimately ended up standing between Katie and his father. Some minutes later he caught sight of the honor guard detail from the 3rd United States Infantry Regiment, better known as the Old Guard, lining up by the road. Farther away, a black hearse leading a line of cars slowly drove toward them.
Jamie stood at attention as the hearse came to a stop in the road, one lone soldier in the honor guard detail performing a slow salute, which was returned by the officer in charge. Between the road and the gravesite stood a rank of uniformed men and women, holding their rifles by the barrels, the buttstocks resting on the ground near their feet. A senior NCO presided over them, and as the driver got out of the hearse, the NCO called out his orders into the silence.
“Present arms!”
The men and women under his command smoothly lifted their rifles as one and held each weapon in front of their bodies perpendicular to the ground.
Jamie, like every other man and woman in uniform, performed a slow salute in kind.
The driver came around the hearse to open the rear door. He stood out of the way as the officer called forth the honor guard detail, who somberly marched to the hearse. Six men and women in full dress uniform lined up in two rows of three on either side of the hearse to receive the flag-draped coffin in their white-gloved hands.
With perfect, precise motions, the honor guard detail stepped onto the grass and carried the fallen to his final resting spot, guided by a chaplain. The family members followed behind, grief making them slow. Jamie held his salute until the coffin had been set on the stand over the grave itself and the honor guard detail secured the flag. Only then did he lower his arm.
The chaplain was an older man in his fifties who held himself straight-backed with shoulders squared throughout the service. Jamie let his gaze travel over the crowd from time to time, taking in the quiet rustle of people shifting in their chairs or where they stood on the grass, the way so many leaned against each other for support.
Beside him, Katie subtly pressed the back of her gloved hand to his as she stared straight ahead. Not for the first time did Jamie ask himself what he’d done to deserve her as a friend.
You were yourself, nothing more, Katie told him. Despite everything, you are still that same man I’d walk through fire for. We all would, and we all have. Don’t ever forget it. We’ll stand with you no matter what.
An inquiry into his actions as captain of Alpha Team was inevitable, as Nazari had confirmed. Whether or not Jamie earned a letter of reprimand or even a court-martial, nothing would compare to the punishment he was currently living through.
Don’t throw away your career, Katie. Not for me.
They either get all of us, or none of us, Jamie. I have only one captain.
Jamie had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound. It may be none.
Because he’d meant it that night, in the courtroom, the memories a scar in his mind Katie gently eased aside.
He couldn’t do this alone.
Then so be it, she promised. We aren’t leaving you.
The director might not like losing all of them, but he would dislike losing Katie more. Considering what Katie had accomplished in the field—merging two psionic powers into a greater whole—Jamie highly doubted the MDF would be willing to let her go so easily. If there were leverage to be had, Katie held the most right now.
Jamie stared straight ahead, listening to the drone of the chaplain’s voice as he finished up the service. The chaplain’s words were meant to comfort, but there was no comfort in burying the dead.
The honor guard detail was called forth once more, the chaplain stepping back to give them room. They marched to their positions at the coffin, reaching down as one to lift the flag and hold it aloft with steady, white-gloved hands.
Once again, the senior NCO presiding over the riflemen and women issued his order to, “Present arms!”
Jamie lifted his right hand slowly in a salute as the first of three rifle volleys split the air. All around him, those in uniform did the same. The civilian mourners stayed seated or standing where they were, bearing silent witness to a last and final goodbye.
Between the precision crack of guns, in the silence, Richard whispered, “I never understood the concept of saluting. But I get it now. I do.”
Jamie didn’t move, his hand held at a perfect, unrelenting angle to his head.
Sometimes, there were no words left to describe the ugliness of war, the loss one felt in the absence of good men and women gone now from this earth.
Be
cause in the end, words were an inadequate measure of respect for the dead.
As the last volley faded away, a distant, lone bugler began to play “Taps.” The somber notes rent the air just as deeply as the bullets had, and Jamie found himself blinking back tears. He took a soundless breath and got himself under control, his thoughts shying away from all the might-have-beens and could-have-beens that lingered at the back of his mind.
When the last note faded, Jamie and those saluting lowered their arms. The honor guard detail began to fold the flag into a triangle before handing it off to Matthew. He took it with careful hands before turning on his heel and walking slowly to where Lieutenant Kevin Hughes’ widow sat. Matthew knelt and presented the flag to her, speaking quietly. Jamie couldn’t hear his voice, but he knew what words Matthew was saying.
He’d spoken them himself for several of the fallen after Libya all those years ago.
Hughes had died guarding the White House, when the Sons of Adam had nearly broken through the defensive line with help of a metahuman. Matthew’s second-in-command had done his duty to the very end, as had all the others being laid to rest in Arlington today. But because this was Matthew’s team, Katie had decided to pay her respects. Despite his grief, Jamie and the rest of the team had refused to let her go alone.
Richard and several other dignitaries and politicians who had been present at the State Dinner had chosen to come and pay their respects to the dead in recognition of their sacrifice that night. Jamie tried not to read too much into his father’s somber demeanor. Considering the high profile of some of those wanting to attend and the security issues involved, it could have turned into a circus. But with Alpha Team in attendance, the Secret Service and other private security had quietly agreed to wait at the entrance to the cemetery so as not to distract from the funeral itself.
The director had come for reasons of his own that Jamie didn’t profess to know. Perhaps to talk with him, perhaps not. Jamie watched as after the benediction was read and the ceremony came to a close, Nazari joined the queue of mourners who wished to give their condolences and support to Hughes’ widow.
In the Requiem (Metahuman Files Book 5) Page 31