Memorial Day

Title: "Memorial Day" (500 words)
Author: Jimbo
Fandom: 'S.W.A.T.'
Pairing: Gamble/Street (Jeremy Renner, Colin Farrell)
Date: May 27, 2006
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters -- just borrowing them for the fun of it.
Warnings: None really. References to violence.
Notes: Written for Challenge #78 "Tears" at slashthedrabble. Sequel to 'Regret to Inform.'

"Hold on a minute," Jim Street said to the chattering two-year-old confined in the car seat. "I'll be right with you."

Street's German Shepherd, Chopper, hopped out of the car and waited patiently as Street leaned in and extricated the little human from its plastic kennel.

"Okay, Champ," Street said. "Let's go." The three made their way slowly along the wide walkway transecting the perfect lawn.

"He's so cute," said a matronly woman, pausing to study the denim clad youngster clutching Street's finger. "He's a Navy man?"

Street grinned, pushing the tiny telltale cap forward over the child's messy bangs. "Maybe someday," he answered.

Street left the path, pulling the boy across the soft grass, whistling to the dog as they walked through a row of plain markers. He had only been to the spot three times in three years, but he knew exactly where it was.

Brian Gamble's grave.

Street still had the flag he had saved from Brian's lonely service. A few days a year he hung it outside the small house he and Lara now shared, as he had that very morning. The treasured flag was proof that Gamble was something besides a fuckup and a criminal. He was also a veteran who had once served his country. And today was the day to honor those who served.

Street reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, rolled up flag, so different from the one hanging back at home. This one was cheap and flimsy, purchased for a couple bucks on the way to the cemetery, but it was good enough. Street knelt down in front of Gamble's marker and pushed it into the ground.

The delighted child reached out and pummeled Street's suddenly accessible face, chortling with laughter.

"What's up, pal? You wanna fight?" He held the tiny hands still.

A sudden memory of his final fight with Gamble threatened to send Street reeling. Usually his memories of Gamble came late at night after fevered dreams where Gamble's sweat and scum mingled with his own, the stain left on the sheets afterwards evidence that Street hadn't forgotten Gamble had been more than his partner and friend. Street usually schooled his thoughts to keep them from straying into areas of his relationship with Gamble that could still hurt.

Like that last night when he and Gamble had grunted and sweat in a dark train yard, and Gamble had died.

And all the nights before that when he and Gamble had grunted and sweat in a dark bedroom, and both had believed they would live forever.

Tired of being confined, Street's son started to wail, and Chopper began to whine.

"Jesus! Take it easy, everybody. We're going home!" Home to Lara and the team and an afternoon barbeque.

Street picked up the boy and walked away from the grave without looking back, putting the memories away for now. The strong little body in his arms struggled.

"Shhh, Bri," Street said softly to the red-faced toddler. "Don't cry."

The End