Taps

by Heronymus

Copyright © 2003

heronymus_waat@hotmail.com

Rating: G
Disclaimer: All characters and properties in this fiction fall under the ownership of their respective copyright and trademark holders; that includes, but is not limited to: Mutant Enemy; Joss Whedon; Fox; Warner Brothers; the United States Government and the US Marine Corps; and various other parties not named but not excluded. Infringement of these rights is neither expressed nor implied; usage of these characters and properties is expressly without the permission of the respective holders and indicates no surrender of intellectual property. This work of fiction was created without the intent to generate profit, and is distributed solely as a free exercise. In other words: I don't own 'em, wouldn't have done things the same way anyway, so please don't sue.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Sure! Please let me know, though.
Feedback: I'm a slave to it. It's my first time. Please be gentle.
Spoilers: Through Season 7.
Author's Notes: Thanks to my Wife (v.2.0), without whom no things are possible. Thanks to the men and women in uniform, without whom, we would not be free to bitch. And thanks of course to Joss and his writing team, without whom the vast wasteland of modern television would be even more parched and desert-like.
Pairing: Just Buffy

The sharp crack of the rifles was the sound of her heart breaking, again.

Three times, they fired. Three times, she flinched; the sound of death and ruin rippling across the quiet plain of standing stones, each with a small name engraved, and a date, and something else...a rank.

After the end of everything, thinking that the world had finally finished with her, Buffy found herself in Virginia, in a cemetery, watching two flags being folded.

The call had come to her cell phone, oddly enough; she didn't even think it still worked. She didn't recognize the number, but then, all of the numbers that she knew were gone, swallowed up in the pit that was the Hellmouth. All the people she knew would call were sharing the house in Dallas, overly crowded but still happy and loving the fact that, even with all the deaths, her friends were still with her.

So it was a hammer to the forebrain to hear the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Buffy Summers?"

"Yah, who is this?"

"Buffy Anne Summers, late of Sunnydale, California? Social Security Number 786.94.5873?"

"Who is this, and how do you know my SSN?" The anger was starting to leak in...she wasn't ready for more trouble, yet. She'd just started her vacation; they'd been here less than a month, sent most of the potentials on to Cleveland, but determined to spend the winter somewhere warm, and far from the remains of their home.

"My name is Brigadier General Timothy Patterson, I'm the Director of Manpower for the United States Marine Corps."

"Why the hell is a General of the Army calling me..." and then it hit her. Riley.

"Marine Corps, Ma'am. The reason I'm calling you is, we were looking for you. Can you tell me where you are? I need to send a car for you."

"Has something happened? Are you trying to kidnap me?" The faces of everyone else in the room were starting to react, finally starting to listen to her conversation. The words "army" and "kidnap" had gotten their attention, and they were starting to get angry. Dawn, Xander, Willow, Faith, Giles...slowly it was dawning on them that something was very wrong.

"Ma'am, we're the United States Marine Corps. If'n we'd wanted to kidnap you, you'd be gone by now. No ma'am, I need to send an officer to meet with you, and a car...well, the officer will explain when he gets there."

"General, I don't care who the hell you think you are, you're messing with the wrong woman..."

"Ma'am, believe me. I've seen your file, and I have no interest in 'messing' with you. I just need to know where you are, please. I don't usually call people on the phone, but I'm one of six people currently in the Chain of Command that have the clearance to call you about this. Please, ma'am, just give me the damn address."

"We're in Arlington, near the ballpark. The Ramada Inn...off of 360. Can you find it?"

"Ma'am, if you'll just open the door in about ten minutes, the gentleman will explain everything."

The line went dead.

"Buffy?" Dawn's voice was soft, afraid. "What's going on? The Army? Kidnap?"

"I dunno. General Patterson? He was the...um...manpower agent?"

Giles piped up. "Do you mean to say that you just got a call from Brigadier General Timothy Patterson of the US Marine Corps?"

There was a beat, as everyone stared. Xander broke the silence.

"G-man...how do you know that?"

"Um...well..." he took off his glasses, cleaning the lenses furiously. "I-I...It's a hobby. Military organizations. It's research for the new Council!" His tone was defensive.

"And stepping away from that odd image," piped in Willow, "Why is a Brigadier General calling y –" Her face fell. "Riley."

Buffy shook her head. "I don't know anything yet. There's supposed to be someone knock –"

There was a knock at the door.

"Yo, B, that was damn creepy. Do it again!"

Buffy stood for a moment, and then opened the door of the apartment.

Standing in the hallway was a crisp-looking Marine.

"Buffy Summers?"

She nodded, slowly, and felt the tears already beginning to well up.

"Miss Summers, I regret to inform you that your friend, Riley Finn, and his spouse, Katharine Finn, were killed in the line of duty. It was their wish you be informed of this, and be present at the funeral."

"Why not his parents?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Summers, what was that?" The Captain was doing his best to keep his voice down, while still having to speak to a woman nearly a foot and a half shorter than he.

"Why aren't his parents here?"

"Um. The Finns were listed as Killed in Action in the Korean Theatre more than a year ago, Ma'am. Having them at the funeral now would be...odd."

"Oh." She blinked, listening in the silence as the six Marines in perfect dress snapped the flag taut, folding it carefully and precisely in the whipping cold breeze.

"In their letters, they both named you as their one guest." She looked up at the Captain, and he frowned. "Everyone, before they go out on a maneuver, writes a letter. It's for if...you don't make it back. They both named you, to be here, for the other. I don't think either of them thought...I think they thought the other one would be here, and need you to be here for them."

He inhaled deeply.

"I was a part of their team. The Army cut off funding for the team, they were going to go rogue. Then the Marine Special Operations Group picked them up, made them all Marines. I came on board then, but the Colonel, Mrs. Finn...she was the boss, and everyone knew it. Major Finn was her XO, her second-in-command. They were such a team, and they loved us all. I mean, not like that, but...we were their troops. I would have followed them into hell...and I did, I think, a couple of times."

Her voice was small, soft, and cold...it was so cold here, in Virginia, in December. "How did they die?"

"We were evacing. Pulling out of a hotspot in the highlands of Colombia. They were in the rear of the chopper, everyone on, and these...tentacles came flying up. Latched on to the ramp, it was holding us down. The Colonel and the Major started hacking away at one of them, got it to let go, then started on the other one. There was a...like a 'phft' noise, only real loud over the chopper blades, and then...this stick. A quill, I heard one of the PNGs call it. It went right through both of them. They were hugging each other, smiling at each other. They thought we were home free. It was quick."

"PNG?"

"Oh, sorry. Pencil-Necked Geek. One of the research-y types. They tell us how to kill it, we kill it."

"Ah."

The crack of the rifle was like her heart breaking.

The bugler started playing, and that was when her reserve broke down. The lump in her throat was making it impossible to breathe, and the tears were streaming down her face. It was a good thing she was sitting; she didn't think she could stand up to this grief, not again, not so soon after...everything.

"Day is done.
Gone the sun.
Do not fight
For the right
Has been won.
Brave solder, rest –
Sleep is nigh."

There was someone standing in front of her. He knelt down, his perfect crease, perfectly clean pants, stained in the grass.

"On behalf of the President of the United States, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's service to Country and Corps."

She took the two flags, clutching them against her chest, and stood as the caskets were lowered into the ground. Here, in Arlington, among the rows upon rows of small granite stones, they were buried side by side.

Colonel K. Finn, USMC, 2003.
Major R. Finn, USMC, 2003.

And one more love was laid to rest, in the cold ground.

The End

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