Issue 1 Downtime

As the student body gathered in the quad, Ms. McManus took to the podium.

"This is never easy. There are so many emotions that come, anger, disbelief, sadness. We wrestle with them, and they do not yield without a fight. Then again, it shouldn't be easy, not ever. If it was, what would that say about those who can't be with us today? What would that say about us?"

"You could say that we're here to honor them, but that's not quite true. It's much simpler and perhaps more selfish than that. This is for us, and this is saying goodbye to good friends."

She left the podium to others, retaking her seat.

As much as she might be reeling from her own issues, Nailah was there with Sam and when the red-head sits back down next to her she takes her hand and gives it a faint squeeze.

Kyra sat in the front row, sobbing as she leaned into Cassiel.

Cassiel, looking unusually somber even for him, held his arm and his mind around his daughter for comfort, shielding out most of the outside grief from them.

Will, dressed all in black, slowly made his way up to the microphone stand.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me, Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

We walk now through such a valley. A Spanish orphan. A half-robot American. A hot blooded Scandinavian. The son of legends. Our goofball. A partially human learning to be a machine. A machine learning to be partially human. Paramilitary from a rogue nation. Sweet comfort in times of troubles. We shall fear no evil; they shall dwell in the house of the Lord.

They didn't ask for this. They didn't ask to be special, or to be singled out. They didn't ask to be brought to the front lines by accidents of birth. Yet each and every one of them fought bravely to the end. They gave their lives for a higher calling. They gave their lives for what was right, and true, and just. They struggled valiantly, against impossible odds. They gave their lives for friendship.

We should not say that they failed. Never, ever let it be said that they failed. They gave every ounce of their being, every ounce of their souls trying to bring the day into the light away from the darkness.

We failed them. Every one of us still here failed them, whether we were there or not. We do not fail alone, much as we do not succeed that way. We are more then friends here--we are family, and every time we look up at their memorial, we shall remember by the nine headstones we erect today our failings, and our limits. We shall remember and we shall mourn, for to do otherwise would be to let their spirits and their memory fade away, and every last one of them deserves better than that, and they shall have better, and we shall DO better.

We will use their memory to inspire us--those that gave their lives fighting for the right. We failed them, yet in that failure a new light shall be born, for we will not--we can not let this tragedy happen again. The lesson here is not to give up the fight because it is hard--that would be the final disrespect to those we mourn today, to say that their deaths are meaningless--products of a system we decry as unfair or too difficult to bother continuing with. The lesson here is to let the memories of these brave nine live forever within us, and inspire us to greater heights.

We know what it feels like, now, to gather here under the shadow of events. We know now that we can never, ever let this happen again--that we must fight with ever-increasing rigor and vigilance to ensure that next time, we all come home.

We did not ask for this. We did not ask to be special, or to be singled out. We did not ask to be sent to the front lines by accidents of birth. But here we are. We must be strong and courageous--do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord our God goes with us; He will never leave us nor forsake us.

We shall not let this day happen again.

May..." Will's voice wavered near the end... "May the souls of our loved ones rest in peace, forever and ever.

Amen."

Sara has to blink back tears. Not exactly religious herself she's still thankful that Will went up and shared his faith and what consolation it might bring with her and everyone else.

"Amen," Sean said voice cracking after Will had finished.

Nina sat towards the back, forcing herself not to cry. Even though after Will's speech she felt like bawling like a baby.

SHIELD agents don't cry.

Salma was in the crowd as well, looking gloomy. Daedalus was on her shoulder, trying in his little robot way to help by patting her gently. It wasn't helping much.

"Adieu, Cal," she whispered.

Sitting next to Sean, Guy gave his friend a supportive squeeze on the shoulder.