Cheltenham Veterans Cemetery
Cheltenham, MD
Earth
The funeral had been a short, quiet affair. There was no body to bury and little family to mourn the passing of the deceased. Of the young officer's family, only his grandmother was in attendance, weeping quietly on the shoulder of her chauffeur. A smattering of Starfleet officers, in rare funeral black, sat silently scattered in the folding chairs while the minister said the appropriate words. Light rain flickered against the windows. Grimaces at the young man's passing were interrupted every now and again by a nod or a smile at a fond memory. All were reverent.
Nurse Josephine Regal sat in the back row, tears dripping slowly down her cheeks, while she held the hand of the doctor by her side. They were an unlikely pair.
Doctor Praxis Diomedes was an older man, slightly overweight, and definitely past his prime. But while the conflicts that had stricken the federation in recent years - and claimed the life of the officer they had come to mourn - weighed on the young nurse's heart, her companion seemed to come alive in recent months. He'd always retained some zest of youth, a spirit which had led him to bond with her in the first place. But now, with their lives frequently in danger, he seemed decades younger. As the danger increased, his mood lightened, as if trying to counterbalance the gravity of their peril.
Today, however, the doctor was silent. He had buried all too many friends in his long life and knew the pain the young woman must be feeling. In times such as this, he said, grief became a virtue unlike any others. It brought people together and let them see the best in others as well as themselves. At least, that's what he had said to Josie on the shuttle ride from San Francisco. She often wondered how much Praxis believed all the long-winded speeches he gave.
In contrast to Praxis, Josie herself felt as if the war were aging her prematurely. She'd been in Starfleet for less than a decade, but the constant wave of patients suffering from disruptor burns, stab wounds, and impalements weighed heavily on her. She felt tired. . . always tired. . . her thin brown hair beginning to grey prematurely, and her face slowly becoming lined with stress and sadness.
Together they sat, doctor and nurse, comforting each other as only two colleagues who have been in the trenches together can.
The ceremony carried on, the minister eventually finishing his message. As he stepped down, the taps began to play. The grandmother was handed a folded flag, and a fresh wave of tears erupted from her eyes. It was all Josie could do to keep from rushing to her side.
Finally, the ceremony ended, and the crowd began dispersing, leaving Josie and the doctor standing before an empty casket, one that would never be buried.
"He finally got his promotion," Josie said, running her hands over letters engraved on replicated wood - Lieutenant Marshall Crane - his name and rank. "He'd resisted the responsibility for so long, I thought he'd be an ensign forever."
"Many young men need time to find their ambition," Praxis said, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Especially young men with the compassion and humility of Lieutenant Crane. He was a fine officer, whatever rank he may have held."
"Thank you," Josie said, then followed after a pause. "Doctor Harker isn't missing you, is he?"
"Silas wouldn't have time for me if I wanted it," the doctor smiled. "It's been nearly a year since we've been back to Earth, and his reunion with Rebecca is sure to be... eventful. If you catch my meaning."
Josie smiled, for the first time that day, imagining the usually cold Doctor Harker somehow melting in his beautiful wife's presence. It was a sight, according to Praxis, that was simultaneously beautiful and uncomfortable, as true love so often is.
"Speaking of eventful reunions," Praxis said. "Have you gone over to speak to Commander Revere yet?"
As he spoke, he shifted his gaze in the direction of a tall Trill officer talking with Marshall's grandmother near the back of the room.
"Commander Dex and I have nothing to speak about," Josie responded.
"Is it Dex now? I have such a hard time keeping track of which name he's going by these days."
Commander Jephrom Dex had once served with Josie at the beginning of her Starfleet career, back when she was still aspiring to become an officer. At the time, he had been joined to Xeth, a newly matured symbiont, though he often preferred to use his adopted surname, Revere. Adopted and raised on Earth, he had a multicultural view on life that Josie had once thought charming. After Xeth died and Jephrom had been rejoined, though. . . things had been different.
"Sometimes I think he doesn't even know the answer himself," Josie finally sighed, taking her hand off her old friend's empty casket.
"You should speak with him," Praxis said. "Lieutenant Crane. . . Marshall. . . was his friend as well."
Josie sniffed back a few more tears, remembering her time on the USS Fairfax, where she, Dex, and Marshall had all met, then wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.
"I'm sure I'll be right appealing looking like this," she said, eyes red and swollen.
"He loved you," Praxis said. "I don't think it matters how you look. Just give him a moment. I'm sure he could use it as much as you could."
With that the doctor stepped away, finding another officer to speak with. Josie stood alone for a few moments, not willing to turn in Dex's direction. Their separation had been so dramatic, she doubted that he even wanted to speak with her. Not after the things she'd said. Not after losing so much.
Then, to her surprise, she heard Dex's voice speaking quietly at her side.
"Josie," he said. "How have you been?"
She turned, seeing her old lover properly for the first time in years. He looked... somehow younger. Still tall, youthful, with eyes that burned with the experience of several Trill lifetimes. She often wondered, after he joined with Dex, why he hadn't become an old soul overnight. Why had he changed the way he did?
"I'm fine," she finally said, unable to express more with her feelings so cluttered. Dex only nodded, before casting his eyes on Marshall's coffin.
"He was a good scientist," he said. "Intelligent, tech savvy, if a little over-cautious. It's a shame he never became a department head. He'd have made a good one, I'm sure."
"I'm sure."
A long pause hung over the pair, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Clouds of memories, both good and bad, confusing what each wanted to say to the other for so long.
"Listen," Dex said, turning back to Josie. "I know this isn't the best time to talk. But I'd like you to visit me at my home in San Francisco next week. I have a request for you that can't wait."
Josie tried to search Dex's eyes for more explanation, but they were unreadable. She didn't recognize them as she once did.
"I..." she stuttered, "I can do that, sure. But I can't promise anything. The Odysseus may ship out at any time."
"I doubt that," Dex said, before wincing slightly at his own tone. "I mean, I just know from some friends in the fleet that you've got a lot of officers on shore leave."
"Of course you do."
"Well," Dex said. "You can find my address in the fleet directory. It's changed. Drop by any time, I'm on sabbatical."
"All right," Josie said, watching Dex turn to go before he stopped short and turned back to her.
"Chuck's in town," he said. "He'll want you to drop by and say hello. It'd do him some good."
A final tear dripped down Josie's cheek at the mention of another mutual friend who'd fallen on hard times, "I will. You know I will."
"Thanks," Dex said. And then he was gone.
A few moments later, Praxis reappeared at Josie's side. She suspected, probably rightly, that he had been eavesdropping towards the end of the conversation.
"How did you fare?" he asked.
"All right," Josie responded. "But something's going on. He asked me to come see him next week in San Francisco."
"Are you going?"
"I don't know," she said. "I think I have to. I owe him that much."
Noticing that most of the other attendees were finally filing out, Josephine and the doctor moved towards the door as well. The recent upheaval had caused a lot of deaths, and there were others who would need this space. Lieutenant Crane had been honored, his kindness and strength remembered, and now it was time for those he left behind to step into the rain and move on, without him.