Status: C/U
Category: deathfic
Spoilers: Meridian
Disclaimers: Daniel’s now floating down the River Denial…everything else belongs to other guys
Rating: PG
Content Warning: death and misery
Summary: Paul examines his life after Daniel
Dedication: to Emony
Archiving: Yes please, just let me know so I can come and gloat. Archivists, feel free to link

On with the show! 

The cold wind blows across the manicured green of the cemetery. The breeze ruffles my coat, slips icy tendrils up my back and down my neck. I welcome the cold. 

It’s been a month since you died, my love. Since you sacrificed yourself in a way so noble, so honourable, so…Daniel. 

Your life for a world. It’s just the kind of gesture I would expect from you. 

I kneel down and trace the etching on the discreet memorial in front of me. “The trouble with that, my love,” I tell the stone. “Is that you’d forgotten that you were no longer alone in this world. That there were people you were leaving behind who were going to miss you.” I press the flat of my hand against your name. “I miss you.” 

Three little words. So inadequate to the task, yet I can’t think of what else to say. Even after all this time, I still can’t think of what to say. 

Can’t think much at all. A kind of fog descended when word reached us at the Pentagon, so far away from the bedside where you finally laid down to die. When the phone rang to tell us the news, I just stopped feeling. 

You once joked with me, told me that there were two versions of me – the Major that everyone saw, and the Paul that was reserved especially for you. Paul died that day, too, but since the Major was still functioning, still making arrangements and dealing, no one noticed. There was no one left to care, anyway. 

It’s the Major who has been going through the motions these last four weeks. But now the fuss has died down, and everyone is moving on. Everyone except me. 

As the sun slips below the horizon, the cold grows stronger. As I stand upright from kneeling by your official memorial stone, I lift my face so the wind blows straight into my face, down my throat, scrubbing me clean from the inside. It’s an easy job – I’m just empty now. 

A shell. 

Intellectually, we both knew this day might come. We talked about it in the light of day, rationally, like adults. We then retreated to dark bedrooms to hold each other close, feel each others’ warmth, reassure each other that we were still alive. 

I haven’t felt warm in a very long time. 

I turn and walk to sit on a bench across the path. I can no longer feel my feet or hands – they’re just dead weight, like blocks of ice on the end of my limbs. 

I sit quietly on the bench, facing your grave. In the distance, I can hear the bell tower chime the hour. They should be finding the note right about now. I hope they respect my wishes, my love. I hope they understand what I lost. 

The coldness is seeping up my arms and legs, spreading into my chest. 

I feel no fear. Were you afraid, my love? Or did you face your death with the same open curiousity and bravery that you faced everything else? I think the latter – you were always the braver of us, as well. 

My eyes are feeling heavy, and I do not resist the urge to close them. 

So dark. So cold. So peaceful. 

I can hear something. Voices, a shout. They do not bother me. I made my choice, as you made yours. Same consequences. 

There will be no grief. I examined my life without you, and I made my choice. 

I give in to the cold.