ArchivedLogs:Vignette - In Memoriam

Vignette - In Memoriam
Dramatis Personae Steve
In Absentia	2016-05-30 "Go on ahead, I'll catch up."
Location <VA> Arlington National Cemetery
The plain white headstones stand in row after perfectly regular row, as if those buried beneath would remain in formation even in death. The black lettering on their faces are all alike, though the names and ranks and decorations they describe differ. Thousands upon thousands of graves stretch on across the great field of perfectly manicured lawn. It's a sweltering mid-atlantic day, the afternoon air thick with insects and sleepy birdsong. But, it being a summer weekend, the cemetery swarms with mourners and tourists alike, and many headstones are decorated with flowers and small American flags that flutter in the hot breeze that stirs every so often. Steve stands before one grave among the myriad, head bowed and hands clasped in front of him. Dressed in a sharp, fitted black suit, white spread-collar shirt, and silver tie with a subtle star motif, he could just be any tall, well-built man here to pay his repects to the fallen. Except for the shield slung across his back, its red, white, and blue star-and-concentric-stripes gleaming in the sun. The headstone he's been contemplating for some time reads JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES III beneath a simple white cross. He has brought no flowers and no flags, though some of his entourage has. Beside him, Gabe Jones also wears a fine black suit, although he has clearly lost weight since the last time it had been fitted. His hair is cut very short, so that its snowy curls look almost translucent against his dark skin in the sun. Bent and weary, he leans on a cane as well as a rangy teenaged boy in a suit he has very nearly outgrown. Peggy Carter is in a long, flowing dress of wedgewood blue, trimmed in white lace, white hair streaming out from beneath a huge, floppy straw sunhat. Jim Morita is defying the trend among the men, and wears a stark white suit with saddle shoes and bow tie. Behind the Howling Commandos are ranged a small, ragtag band of their children, grandchildren, and other scions -- mostly adults, with a couple of teens in the mix. At their head, Trip and Naomi stand near their respective grandfathers, but even closer to each other. "We tried to get them to put 'Bucky' on the headstone," says Gabe, shaking his head slowly. "His parents even agreed, eventually, but the pencil pushers wouldn't have it." Steve hasn't spoken since they arrived at this particular grave. But finally he stirs from his reverie. "Did they ever find the remains? Anything of his at all?" "No." Peggy's voice is soft. "Dugan and Lord Falsworth made some inquiries after V-E Day, but nothing ever came of it. We wanted to mount our own search, but the war was still on in many ways, and it'd been so long..." Steve swallows hard. "You don't have to be so delicate with me. He deserved a proper burial, but I knew how unlikely that was. I..." He tilts his head back and stares up at the sky, tears shimmering in his eyes, unshed. "Go on ahead, I'll catch up. All of you." His eyes flick aside to lock with Peggy's briefly. "Meet you back at the 107th memorial tree." The youngest are the first to move, and Peggy with them. Jim lingers for a moment, staring down at the grave, before going. Gabe claps a hand on Steve's shoulder briefly as he turns to make his slow way down between the rows of headstones. Steve does not watch them go. His eyes have turned downward again, though they're not fixed on the graying white of the grave marker, fierce green of the grass, the bright cacophony of flowers, or the sedate flutter of the flag planted in their midst. He stares past all of it, pale blue eyes unfocused, two lines of tears flowing steadily down.