General George Hammond arrived well ahead of shift change in hopes that few, if any, of the staff would be around. The sentries at the security checkpoints eyed him curiously, but wisely refrained from commenting on either his early arrival, or what he carried carefully in his hands. They did, after all, have careers to consider. Their silence, however, did not extend to keeping his parcel a secret. Thus, by the time he'd arrived on level 26, the halls were unusually occupied.
The elevator doors opened and the general emerged, hat in one hand, and a vase, filled with water and a live plant, in the other. He stopped suddenly, astonished, dismayed, and more than slightly embarrassed by the unwanted attention. "What? No one has duty stations at seven am?" His low growl quickly dispersed the onlookers, who suddenly realized that there were entirely too many of them for their presence in the hall to be an accident. Grumbling under his breath, he stalked into his office, carefully positioned the vase on his desk, glared briefly at the plant, then turned his attention to a stack of mission folders. Deciding that SG-1's report for PXC-922 had been ignored long enough, he picked up Colonel O'Neill's file, and started to read.
The cafeteria was unusually noisy as Daniel Jackson arrived. Not that it held more people than usual for the off hours, but those that were present were talking much more than normal. Daniel pulled a bowl of cereal from the counter, retrieved a carton of milk from the cooler and poured himself an industrial strength cup of coffee before looking for a seat. He tried not to eavesdrop as he maneuvered through the room, but the conversations all seemed to revolve around the same person or persons. He couldn't quite decipher whom everyone seemed to be talking about. Daniel set his course for an unoccupied table in the corner, one where he could lean against the wall for support. God, he was so tired. He'd not had a decent, unaided night's sleep since *she* died.
"Did you see..."
"Flowers, I couldn't..."
"Live plant, I think, didn't..."
Okay, someone got flowers. That's nice. Wonder who? Maybe a surprise delivery. Nice. But this early? Maybe not. Daniel sank into the chair, and placed the cereal, milk and coffee on the table. He'd always wanted to order flowers for Sha're. Yellow roses with a touch of peach in the center, and Baby's Breath as a filler. Yellow like the sands of Abydos, peach like the colors in its magnificent spring sunsets. But that would never be. Suddenly, he wasn't very hungry. He sipped at the coffee, startled to find it was now cold. Just how long *had* he been day-dreaming?
"Excuse me, Dr. Jackson?" The airman's voice slowly penetrated Daniel's confusion.
"Yes, Airman Jeffreys?"
"Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but you didn't seem to hear the intercom. The general wants you in his office."
Daniel glanced down at what was supposed to have been breakfast. Maybe he'd feel more like eating at lunch. Pushing himself upright, he smiled. "Thank you, I appreciate being told."
Hammond was staring at his plant when there was a knock on his door. Tearing his gaze away, he picked up a folder. "Come."
"You wanted to see me, General?" Daniel walked into the room, barely getting past the door when he saw the plant on Hammond's desk. 'The General? *He* got flowers? No, that's a plant, what the...' The young archaeologist's natural curiosity drew him closer to the vase. The clear vase was filled with water. The live plant was suspended in plastic, roots dangling delicately down into the liquid, well above the pastel colored gravel in the bottom. Very pretty, but decidedly out of character.
"Yes. Thank you for coming so promptly, Dr. Jackson." Hammond cleared his throat, in an attempt to pull the young man's attention away from the vase. "I'm very much afraid I need some clarification on your request to send an archaeological team back to PXC-922."
Daniel's eyes never left the vase. "Okay. ... That's a very pretty betta."
"What?"
"In the vase. What's he live on, the residue on the roots?"
"Uh, yes. Actually, that's what I'm told. Now, Dr. Jackson, about PXC-922..."
"I've never seen one with so many pastel colors."
Hammond looked at the little fish peaking his head out from beneath the roots. There was real affection in his voice as he responded. "He's a gift from my granddaughters."
Daniel looked up. "I didn't realize it was your birthday, sir."
"Anniversary."
"Oh." Daniel's thoughts returned to Sha're.
"We would have been married for thirty-five years on the first of April."
"April Fool's Day?" That had Daniel's attention.
Hammond smiled, obviously fond of the memory of the event. "Her idea, actually. Said anyone could get married on Valentine's day. *She* wanted something different, but didn't want me to be able to forget it either. She offered me April Fool's Day or Halloween."
Daniel stifled a laugh. "Why'd you choose April 1st?"
Hammond's smile widened. "April was closer." Laughing outright at Daniel's puzzled expression, he continued. "I asked her to marry me in January, I think."
"Oh, well..."
"Actually, I never did really figure out if I asked her or she asked me. Guess in the end, it doesn't matter."
"N..no. It doesn't." Daniel's thoughts whirled as he remembered his initial reaction to the announcement of his marriage to Sha're. He suddenly realized the general was still speaking.
"She was so beautiful that day. There hadn't been time for a large wedding, not that we wanted one, but she looked so lovely that day. She was positively glowing as we took our vows. I've never seen anyone more beautiful."
For once, Daniel was at a loss for words; Hammond was looking at the gift from his granddaughters but was obviously seeing something else. "It was a beautiful day. Sunny, not too warm, but not too cool, either. Kinda like the fairytale porridge ... just right."
Daniel struggled with this statement for a moment before he remembered the "Goldilocks and the Three Bears" story. "Sounds like a perfect day for a wedding."
"Hmmm, oh, it was. Perfect in every way." He paused and sighed. "I can't believe it's been thirty-five years. God, that makes it four years ago that she...she died." His voice had lowered to almost a whisper.
"I'm sorry, General." Daniel pushed his own sorrow down in the face of the general's. "It's hard knowing they won't ever come back. And forgetting is so, so hard."
Hammond looked up at this comment, suddenly realizing the impact his words were having on the young man who had so recently lost his own wife. "But if it's easy, then did you ever really know love?"
"Wh..what?"
"Son, there's no shame in loving, and being loved, in laughing, and in crying. And there's certainly no shame to be found in grieving. I loved my wife, and she loved me, for over thirty years. Her death didn't stop me loving her. And there's no way I'm ever going to forget her or what we had."
"I understand, General. You have the kids, the grandchildren, and all those years..." Daniel spoke softly, as if afraid he'd be heard.
"Thirty-five years, or thirty-five days, son, doesn't make a difference. They were all moments to remember, and I'm damn glad to remember as many as I do. Good, and bad. The kids, grandkids ... obviously they're the good piece, a few of many. The cancer, well, that was bad, very bad, but even those days had some happy moments." Hammond studied the young man in front of him, and saw for the first time, the sunken eyes encased in deep black circles. And he looked thin. Too thin. "Is that what you've been doing, trying to forget your wife?"
"No, I, uh ..." Daniel's fists suddenly clenched. "...Yes! I want to forget, I need to forget."
Hammond shook his head. "Only if there's nothing worth remembering. Was life that bad on Abydos?"
Daniel's eyes narrowed with anger. "NO! It was great..." His voice choked with emotion. "...just great."
"Then why forget it?"
"Because... it hurts. I feel so hollow, so empty. The best part of me's been ripped away, and the memories..." He paused, and took a ragged breath. "I can still see her lying there, that ... that *hole* in her chest."
Hammond sat quietly for a moment. "I can still see Tessa, my wife, in the hospice. The tubes were gone, thank God, except for the oxygen that helped her breathe. But she was so wasted, and pale. Almost a wraith. *Not* the laughing girl who doused me with champagne on our wedding night. At least not on the outside. Inside, she was still *my* Tess. She always will be."
"How do you stand seeing her that way?" The pain in the young man's voice caused the general to cringe.
"Because I don't see her that way all the time. I see our wedding day, the birth of our children. The scout meetings, holidays, first dates, graduations, weddings, the birth of our grandchildren. All the big moments in our lives. But more than that I see her in the kitchen, fighting to can her first batch of fig preserves, and losing I might add. Hard as a rock. Threw away eighteen jars, couldn't get the stuff out. I see her in the morning, sleeping, buried in her pillows. I see her on the beach, just us, walking hand in hand at sunset. Those are the moments I remember, the moments I cherish. Surely you have good memories."
"Y..Yes." Daniel started to elaborate, then paused. "Lots of them."
"Then don't destroy them by only living with the bad, son. Let the good shine through. Think you can do that?"
The young man had a faraway look in his eyes as he replied tiredly. "I'll try."
"Good." Hammond cleared his throat, looking mildly embarrassed. "Now, you look exhausted, so take my advice. Go back to your quarters, get some rest. We'll discuss your recommendations for PXC-922 later."
"Okay."
The general watched as the young man walked from the room, a faint smile on his lips. The older man smiled himself as he noticed the children's gift once more. Reaching out to touch the clear glass of the vase, he spoke softly. "Happy Anniversary, Tessa. Forever and always, I love you."