Drabble Challenge: Day 7

    Look at me, breaking my own attempt to stick to one thing all month. I was going to write Jaq for Dana, because he mentioned it over Skype this evening at his family's home (birthday party for the moms) and I'd been wrapping my mind around making this drabble one for Jaq, buuuut. Then I got on Youtube. And found Not Alone by Patty Griffin with a Tony and Ziva (NCIS) video to it. And proceeded to start crying.

    Long story short, I didn't have the heart to write something as cheery as the Jaq scrawl was going to be. So I went with something more fitting for my mood. Jaz again (sorry, she's been on my mind) at the funeral for the fallen after Busan was attacked. Pretty sure I've posted a scrawl for that whole fiasco, if you've confused. Just check out the Jaz tag.


    Drabble Challenge: Day 7 - formal
    Word Count: 460    Minimum Goal: 420

    They held a formal funeral the day after their attackers were driven off and their fortifications reinstituted. When the damaged city and her injured people had staved off the attack, Jaz gave the order to prepare for a funeral. For their lost leader, for their lost comrades. For the people they had lost. That she had lost too, but could not grieve for.
    She had one of the other commanders speak at the funeral. Someone most everyone would know and trust. Jaz knew she was still on the out; saving the city wouldn’t be enough. But she didn’t need their trust, just their obedience until they could see that she wouldn’t do wrong by them or by Busan. That she couldn’t.
    It wasn’t raining, but the clouds threatened overhead. The uniform that Jaz had requested be found for her was tight around the collar and stiff everywhere else, but she didn’t move a muscle where she stood in formation with the rest of the special operations forces. None of them did.
    Commander Stones’ voice rolled across them. Solemn. Grave. Respectful.
    Whitecourt had led them well for almost ten years. Mentor to many, friend to even more. Fair and just. But willing to make the hard decisions. Jaz knew it because he’d sent her on the mission that almost cost her her life. And she respected him for it.
    The cost of the skirmish had been high. None of the other names registered with her, but she took note of them anyways. Their families would be on her list of tasks to attend. 
    A strong breeze blew through the cemetery, bringing the smell of rain with it. Jaz drew in a discreet breath, wishing for the freedom to close her eyes and allow herself to stop thinking for a time. 
    “Busan is a strong city, a strong collective. We have survived before and we will again. We will rebuild and we will defend ourselves better next time. A temporary replacement was appointed after Chief Commander Whitecourt was lost, and will remain in place for the time being. Commander O’Haire has been absent, presumed dead, for almost a year now, but she was the one who rallied our forces yesterday, who mobilized a strong offense, and kept any more from falling. We have elected to allow her to stay in command until a point at which we can reelect a new chief.”
    Jaz was surprised at the lack of ripples through the crowd. There were no murmurs, no intakes of breath. 
    From wounded returning to chief commander. There was a knot in her stomach and she would have to be an idiot not to sense her own fear. But this was her home and she was going to do right by it.


    So yeah. Kind of on the sober side, but sometimes your heart gets in a place and it's not easy to drag it back. I will write Jaq for you, Dana, have no fear. It just couldn't be today.

    Ad astra per aspera.
    To the stars, through difficulties.