Title: Barista 50 -- Denouement

Author's Notes: You already know the drill - I'm not going to tell you the rating, the summary or what (if any) episode this is about until after Meridian. I could write something more and tease you a bit, but I'll save that to the end. *g* As always, apologies for the *ahem* seven week wait. Hope this one makes up for it!

When hot guys stare at me, I'm flattered. When creepy old guys stare at me, I tend to think 'Lolita' and run for the hills. When lesbians stare at me, I get embarrassed, and shamelessly flirt with the closest unmarried heterosexual man around, and when gay guys stare at me, I wonder if I'm wearing the wrong shoes with my skirt. You think with all that experience, I would know how to react to the incredulous stare I'm currently receiving from one of my best friends.

You'd be wrong.

"You hate it, don't you?" I ask self-consciously, running a hand through my hair. Stefan's eyebrows crease in concentration as he purses his lips, tilting his head from side to side.

"It isn't so much as hate," he begins judiciously, taking a step closer as he blocks me from walking further into the shop. "It's more like shock and awe." He takes hold of my shoulders and turns me around in a complete circle, clucking his tongue the entire time. "You could have warned me first," he continues in a hurt voice. "I would have held your hand or something." I can't help but smile.

"Most 24 year old women don't need their hand held when they go in for a haircut," I counter taking a step forward. I frown slightly as Stefan moves with me - is he trying to prevent me from heading to work?

"They do if they haven't had their hair cut in ten years!" Stefan replies indignantly, still jostling me to remain where I am. I have to admit, he does have a point. I don't think anyone would have begrudged a little handholding after such a long period. I admit that I'm still a little surprised by the decision to hack off all my hair. The idea popped into my head shortly after the disastrous/fantastic night at Daniel's last month. I began to think about it more and more, and then yesterday took the plunge and went to one of those salons that don't charge a flat rate, and nervously asked them to cut my hair. All of it.

I kept the 16-inch ponytail as a keepsake. Am I weird or what?

"Is it really that bad?" I ask in a small voice, as I run a hand up the back of my neck and feel the shortened hairs. I can't even begin to describe how strange it feels to have my hair end just below my ears. For most of my adult life, it's been half way down my back. I feel like I've lost at least five pounds!

Come to think of it, I just might have.

"I think you look fantastic!" Gretchen says, as she pushes Stefan out of the way and gives me a big hug. "Although," she continues, elbowing me lightly in the ribs, "you might want to change before taking your last shift behind the bar." I feel myself blushing as I look down at my chic brown skirt, dark brown boots and cream silk blouse. Rather than risk wrinkling my "nice" clothes, I had thrown my work clothes into my bag and worn my good ones into work. I'm about to explain this to her when I suddenly notice we're not alone.

I mean, we're really not alone.

Usually, there are only three of us at 8 AM on a Thursday. Apparently, today isn't like other Thursdays. My eyes grow wide as I take in the "Congratulations Kira" sign and what appears to be every person I have ever served and worked with in the past five years. Including Victor!

"Ah, leave the girl alone," Victor says, throwing an arm around my shoulders and ushering me further inside. "I think Ms. Kira looks very chic with her new haircut and fancy clothes - I for one like it!" I feel myself grinning. Ha! I dare anyone to try and contradict Victor. He leads me past a throng of highly caffeinated people. Everyone is patting me on the back and telling me congratulations. Wow. And here I thought a)Victor would be bummed that I was leaving and b) the rest of the crew wouldn't care one way or the other.

"Surprised?" Victor asks, in his slightly accented English. He looks more like someone who should be operating a beer hall than a coffee shop, but then again, he's the only coffee shop owner I've ever met so maybe they all look like this!

"Very!" I reply, as someone takes my messenger bag from me and hands me a soy chai. I look around at all the shiny happy people. "Victor, it is only 8 AM."

"We'd never have been able to surprise you if we tried to pull it off on your lunch break," Victor explains.

"That's because she never takes a lunch break!" Stefan adds. He reaches his hands under my hair and gives it (them?) a good shake.

"Stefan!" I cry, trying to pull away. I have to admit though, that felt nice. Hmmm - Apparently, short hair has its advantages!

"It's very silky," Stefan says judiciously. I roll my eyes. I'm really going to miss these guys.

"Show us the badge again, Kree," Louise asks. Happily, I reach into my (only) suit pocket and pull out a freshly minted civilian military ID badge for working at the Deep Space Telemetry facility at Cheyenne Mountain. I can't believe I really have one of these. A young Air Force enlisted guy brought it by my apartment last week. He looked to be about my age, and man, was he hot! I wonder if it's okay for me to date cute military guys…

I look down at the badge and a score of memories come rushing back.

"You promise you'll be there?" I ask Daniel nervously as I ring up his coffee. It seems rather odd that a single piece of paper would (apparently) get me all the way to the front door of one of the most highly classified secrets on the planet.

"Absolutely," Daniel insists. "I made sure we weren't scheduled to," he pauses and then flashes me a sheepish smile. "I made sure we weren't scheduled to travel that day." Wow. For the first time in five years, I actually get the euphemism.

"Well, that's good," I reply in what I hope is a casual voice. You know trying to pretend like you're not talking about something really important, is actually quite difficult. "I wouldn't want to disrupt any travel plans." It is good to see Daniel joke a little again. The week before he had looked so damn depressed when he had come into the shop, and just shook his head when I asked him what was wrong.

"You'll have to pass through two different security check points," Daniel continues as I pass over his coffee, "but after that, park anywhere free and approach the main gate right outside the mountain entrance. Your name is on the list, so just show the guards your ID and sign on in."

"And you'll be there, right?" I wonder if I would be this nervous if I was going to be working at somewhere more traditional - like the Smithsonian or the British Museum. Probably.

"The guards will give me a call and I'll come up and get you," Daniel explains. "I'm afraid I won't be able to show you the exciting stuff like the travel thing, or," he pauses again, "something really great, like my office." I laugh. "But, you'll get to meet General Hammond and we'll finish up the rest of the paperwork." It's not very crowded, so I walk Daniel toward the door.

"I actually met General Hammond before," I say suddenly.

"You have?" Daniel asks with interest. "When?"

"It was last year sometime," I explain. "You and I had a study appointment and much to my surprise, General Hammond himself came to tell me that you wouldn't be able to make it."

"He did?" Daniel sounds nearly as surprised as I was. "Well, that was nice of him," he adds.

"Apparently, you're an important man, Dr. Jackson," I say elbowing Daniel lightly in the ribs. "Your assistant saw my name on your calendar and for some inexplicable reason, mentioned it to General Hammond."

"He did?" He? Daniel's assistant is a he?

"Uh huh," I reply, nodding. "The General went on to say all sorts of nice things about me and coffee," I say this really fast as I'm certain I'm blushing now. "And then tells me he's doing everything in his power to get you home."

"I'm sure he was," Daniel says with certainty. "We're pretty close at the SGC." The words come out automatically, but Daniel abruptly pauses, as he seems to ponder his own words.

"He was right!" I say triumphantly. "You did make it back, safe and sound."

"We do have a way of doing that," Daniel replies drolly. We're at the door now, but Daniel is in a talkative mood, so I can't help but pester him just a little more.

"Daniel, will I be able to read about your missions?" I ask quietly. It isn't really against the rules to say 'mission', but at the same time, not something you want just anyone to overhear.

"Some," he replies with a shrug. "I'm not all too certain what security level they are going to be giving you, Kira - but some of the missions we've been on are pretty classified." I can imagine.

"Well, I'd love to read what you can show me." Daniel nods.

"You got it."

Daniel was right - I didn't really get to see all that much, but after getting over my abject terror of driving through the front gates (in my brand new used 1996 Toyota Corolla), I did all right.

Those front guards sure don't smile all that much, but, after an exceedingly long five minutes, Daniel did indeed meet me like he said. I was shown into a windowless room where I filled out even more paperwork and was introduced (officially) to General Hammond. They took my picture, gave me a new ID card and welcomed me to Stargate Command.

"That is so cool-looking," Heather remarks, shaking me out of memory. "But does it pay okay?" Heather is currently an anthropology undergrad, but was a little bummed to hear what first year Anthro-grads actually make out there in the real world.

"You kidding," Stefan answers for me, "Kree is going to pay off her student loans in less than five years with this job!" There is a collective "oooo!" from the students near by. I laugh.

"It pays well," I remark, trying hard to keep the extreme, jump-up-and-down joy out of my voice. I don't think I want it to become public knowledge that I'm about to make in one year what took me five years to earn at Victors. I mollify this rather freaky factoid by adding, 'part-time'. It's just a job, Kira,'I tell myself. It's just a job.

Right. Only a sweet, kick-ass, translate some alien text and maybe save the galaxy sort of job. YES!

"Are you really going to work for Professor Yummy?" Gillian asks. I balk; I can't believe she just said that!

"Gill!" I admonish, giving her an evil death stare, which actually doesn't last very long before I end up giggling. "I can't be calling my new boss Professor Yummy!" I implore. "It wouldn't be professional!" Everyone just laughs.

"Maybe you can't, but I can!" Stefan interjects, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Remember, his best friend carries a gun," I add. I don't think they all need to hear that most of the time, Daniel does too.

After an hour or so, the regular customers trickle out and only Victor and most of the staff remain. I unwrap several very cool gifts, including what I'm certain will be a highly coveted 'Victors' sweatshirt. The staff knows I don't drink coffee, but still gave me a new French press and several pounds of the best beans in the shop.

"For Professor Yummy," Stefan explains. "We figured, you'd want to keep on his good side for as long as you can."

"Thanks, you guys," I say, struggling to come up with words to express how much all of this means to me.

"Just don't make his coffee for him every day, okay?" Stefan continues. "The rest of the shop would still like to see the guy every now and then."

I heard several "You've got that right" and "uh huhs" from around the room. Daniel does have that effect on people! Wow. I wonder if he gives off the same vibe at the SGC?

Little by little, I hug everyone good bye and by noon, its back to just Stefan, Gretchen and I. I had finally changed into my barista clothes and am cheerfully back behind the register taking orders and chatting with customers.

It is my last day as a Barista.

Every now and then, the enormity of that thought throws me for a loop. After five years, it feel so incredibly strange to realize that THIS might be the last time I break a $100 dollar bill. Or maybe THIS would be the last double tall extra dry cappuccino I would make. I try instead to imagine what it will be like to work hundreds of feet beneath the surface (I can't recall if Daniel said I'd be on the 17th or 18th floor). I wonder if they have a sunroom or something to prevent vitamin D deficiency.

My shift is nearly over when I hear the door open and spy a familiar figure walking through the front door. The moment he walks in, I know something is wrong. It isn't the fact that he looks all rumpled, as if he is wearing clothes several days old. Nor is it the way he slowly pulls his glasses from his face and tucks them into his shirt pocket. Jack might deny it, but he has to be aware of how this simple action affects folks (mostly women). It isn't even his slow and measured gait - No, it is something in his face, a face that seems to have aged a thousand years in less than a week. I quickly turn around to hide from that face.

I don't want to look at Jack's eyes.

"Kira?" Stefan asks, not having caught sight of Colonel Jack walking through the front door. "You okay?"

"I have to go," I say quickly glancing towards the back room. He can't follow me back there, can he? I'll be safe in the back room.

"All right, just let me pull one last shot.."

"I have to go now," I repeat in near hysteria, turning around again. From the corner of my eye, I can see that Jack is almost at the front counter. He sees me. I know he sees me.

I can't look at him.

I have to leave.

I violently turn away from the register and start towards the backroom.

"Kira!" Stefan calls after me. I know he wants to catch me and ask what's wrong, but Gretchen is on break and he can't leave the register.

"I'll get her," I hear Jack say softly. No. I don't want to see you, Jack. I practically sprint into the back room, and even though it says, 'Employees Only', I'm certain he is right behind me.

"Can't talk now, Jack," I say in a rush as I hastily open my locker and grab my bag. I shove all the nicely pressed clothing into it and angrily zip it up. "Gottago," I say quickly, not looking up.

"Kira," Jack says softly taking a step towards me and putting a warm hand on my shoulder.

"No," I shout vehemently, as I bravely look up into Jack's tired and sad brown eyes. "Whatever you are going to tell me, I don't want to know and I'm certain you are wrong about anyhow."

"I'm sorry, Kira," Jack says in a paper-thin voice. "I.."

"You're wrong!" I say again, jerking myself away from his grip. I run out of the room and through the throngs of people waiting in line for a latte.

"Kira?" I hear Stefan call worriedly after me, as I race through the front door. I take a few deep gulps of warm spring air and then walk briskly towards the small pocket park on the edge of the square. I sit down and try to will my hands to stop shaking. I know he'll find me, but I still hold out hope that somehow I've become invisible.

It doesn't take him long at all.

"Kira," Jack says softly as he takes a seat next to me. He gently takes hold of one of my shaking hands and immediately I feel my eyes fill with tears.

"He's just injured, right?" I say hopefully. "More serious than all the other times, but only injured." I'm greeted with only silence.

"He was injured," Jack begins still holding my hand. "But it was serious."

Was. It was serious.

Oh God! I look over at Jack for the first time and see the extreme sorrow and guilt written across his face.

"No," I cry softly, as my shoulders begin to shake. "Please don't tell me he's dead, Jack. Please."

"I'm sorry, Kira," Jack replies, reaching over and pulling me close. "I'm so so sorry. His voice is nearly a whisper as he continues, "Daniel died early this morning." My most perfect spring day is shattered with those five simple words.

Jack and I sit on that bench for a very long time as I mourn for my lost friend.

I have no idea if this will work, but I know I need to try. My hands are ice cold as I pull up to the first gate and give the somber guard my freshly laminated SGC ID. After I had calmed down, Jack had told me (in what I'm certain was a very watered-down version of the story) what had happened. He told me how Daniel had died doing something very heroic, and invited me to attend the SGC-only memorial service later in the week. He told me Daniel would have wanted it. I didn't know if I could do it.

"Dr. Jackson's new assistant," the guard says softly as he scans my card. Bits and bytes about my professional life appear on his screen.

"Yes." That one word comes out hoarsely, as if I had only recently learned I had a voice. He looks at me with compassion.

"You heard?" he asks, giving me back the ID.

"Yes." This time my voice is stronger, although still soft and measured. It's almost as if I'm scared to say anything definitive aloud. I'm not ready.

"Dr. J was a really great guy," the guard adds, "We all really liked him." I couldn't find my voice to agree with him and could only nod as he waves me through.

I know I'm not ready, but I still need to do this. Looking far more confident than I feel, I go through the second gate, park and then show the front guard my ID. He motions for me to sign in. This time Daniel isn't there to greet me. The guard gives a nod and I head to the elevator. I push the button for Level 28.

The ride down feels forever. As I sink deeper and deeper into the mountain, I feel my heart constrict; I don't know if I can do this.

The doors open silently and I walk towards the murmur of voices. My heels click loudly along the brightly lit, but somber-colored hallway. Many of the doors that I imagine would have been sealed shut are now open. The voices grow louder as I walk through a double-thick entry way and into…

Into the room that houses the Stargate.

My jaw drops as I take in the magnificent large metallic ring standing proudly in the back of the room. It's far larger than I had imagined and the markings on the outer rim are amazing! I feel the pull to walk up the metal grate and touch them, to find some book that will help me decipher what they mean.

And then I catch sight of what is at the base of the grate. My entire body goes numb.

Daniel.

A simple casket draped with the American flag is resting on a mechanical trolley. At the top of the ramp is Colonel Jack, with Major Sam and their friend Murray (Teal'c) on either side. Jack is talking. I hear very little, as I seem to only have power over one sense at the moment and it is my eyes that are needed. I can't tear them away.

Daniel.

I'm in the very back of the room, but a small gap between bodies allows me to see a bit of the casket the entire time. I watch as Jack finishes his speech. I watch as both Sam and Teal'c say something. And then General Hammond. And then Dr. Frasier. And then there is silence as all the (living) bodies near the top of the ramp step aside - only Daniel's casket remains.

I watch as the Stargate begins to move, whirling first to the right and then to the left, One by one seven symbols are selected and the Stargate dramatically roars to life with a loud whoosh as what appears to be a great wall of water is thrust through the opening. It hovers for a brief moment directly above Daniel's casket and then recedes back into the void, leaving only a glimmering pool of blue vertical water.

I watch as Sam picks up a device and Daniel's casket begins to move up the metal ramp.

"Attention!" Jack orders, the words sounding incredibly loud as noise finally filters back into my ears. I watch as each and every military person present gives Daniel a perfect salute. Everyone stands rigid as Daniel's body is sent one last time through the Stargate.

Several moments pass in silence before the gate shuts down with an audible whoosh and Jack orders the room at ease. The murmur of voices begins again and I find alone surrounded by scores of people I may never know.

I haven't a clue where I'm going as I slowly back out of the gateroom and head down one of the deserted steel gray hallways. Everyone is still mingling around the Stargate and I feel like an intruder for remaining near by. I mean, I'm not one of them, am I? I'm not really part of Stargate Command - in spite of what a little plastic card says. Feeling more alone and sad than I ever thought possible, I randomly walk up and down the silent halls.

After a fair amount of time (five minutes? Three hours?) I turn to the right and find myself back at the elevator. Guess this is a sign that I should leave. I mean - it's not as if Jack is going to have time to talk to me. Not today, anyhow. Daniel might have been very dear to me, been a significant part of my life and helped shape who I am today, but he wasn't my best friend. I can't even imagine what Jack must be going through right now. Against my will, my eyes once again fill with tears. After spending nearly five days in a perpetual state of hurt and tears, I am surprised there is anything left.

It's not fair, dammit! Here I find the craziest, most perfect job ever, working for one of the nicest, smartest, not to mention cutest guys around, and my new boss and dear friend goes and does something heroic and saves the world. I let out a shuddering sob. It wasn't even our world!

I find myself in the elevator heading back to the surface. I had scarcely begun my ascent when, for some inexplicable reason, I push the button for level 18. The elevator ascends silently and in hardly anytime at all the door silently opens to seemingly identical gray hall. I wrinkle my nose - why am I here? I'm fairly certain Daniel told me the research assistants work on Level 17… I step out of the elevator and turn right and then left. I'm feeling more and more confused when I suddenly stop in my tracks as I spy the engraving on the door in front of me. Dr. Daniel Jackson.

Daniel's office.

Taking baby steps, I push the door silently open and step inside. Books and papers are scattered everywhere - exactly how I imagined his office must be. I spy archaeological periodicals, well-thumbed leather journals and text books all strewn together in a perfect Dr. Daniel Jackson professional cocktail. I yearn to pick up one of the journals and smell it, but that would be a little creepy, wouldn't it? An invasion of Daniel's privacy. I know I'm probably not allowed to be in here and I want to absorb everything I possibly can before I'm asked to leave the room. Maybe even the base itself. Who knows how mad they'll be that I'm here?

I pick up a framed photo of a beautiful woman. This must be Sha're. I slowly continue to walk around the office, picking up strange-looking artifacts and glancing at half-completed translations. In the far corner of the room is an ancient coffee machine with an open bag of Victor's Special Blend near by.

Oh Daniel!

I hear footsteps approaching and quickly put the artifact I was holding down. I turn around to face what I'm certain will be MPs or someone telling me this room is restricted and I need to leave. I'm really surprised by who shows up.

"Hey," Jack says softly leaning against the doorway.  "I heard a rumor that you were here."

"Rumor?" I ask.

"You signed in up top," Jack explains.

"Ah."

"You should have said something."  Like what, Jack? What could I have possibly have said?

 "Not really how I expected to see where you work…" I begin, my eyes rapidly filling with tears as I take a deep, shuttering breath. "All these years, I wondered where you guys worked, and now I find out…"  My voice cracks and I can't continue. I begin to sob openly standing right there in the open in front of Daniel's desk.  This isn't fair! Daniel isn't supposed to die! After all these years, I finally find out what he does, and he dies? IT'S NOT FAIR!  I let out a low keen.

"Its okay, Kira," Jack says softly. I never even heard him move, and now he's standing at my side.  "It's going to be okay," he repeats, enveloping me in a crushing hug.

"How can it be okay, Jack," I wail, sobbing into his chest. "Daniel is dead! How can dead be all right?"  For several minutes I openly cry and wail and pretty much soak the front of Jack's dress blues.  He holds me the entire time and continues to repeat that it will be all right and all those other soothing words you expect to hear when someone dies. I'm not sure if he's saying it for me or himself.

After several minutes, Jack begins to chuckle. "You realize you're already emulating Daniel, right?" 

"Daniel spent time crying on your chest as well?" I couldn't help it - the smart-ass reply slips out before I can stop myself.

"We tried to keep it a secret," Jack answers without missing a beat, eyes twinkling. Without warning, a small artifact on the corner of Daniel's workplace crashes to the ground. Whoa - that's weird.

Jack breaks out into a huge grin. Now that's even weirder - who grins like that on the day of a funeral? "Sorry, Daniel," Jack murmurs, almost too softly for me to hear.

"Kira," Jack says in mock-seriousness as he wipes my eyes, "Daniel and I didn't have that kind of relationship."  I blink.

 "Good to know…er, I guess."  Daniel might be gone, but he and Jack are still confusing the hell out of me. I blink again and take another few steps deeper into Daniel's office, trying to absorb any residual Daniel-ness that might be lingering near by....

"Why do you think I'm emulating Daniel?"

"You've only been here once before, Kira. And unless Daniel was breaking protocol," Jack pauses and gives me a small smile. "Which Daniel did have a tendency to do, but in this instance, I think he would have told me..." He looks at me seriously. "You hadn't been down to Level 28 yet, had you?" I shake my head. No. I hadn't been there before.

"You hadn't seen the Stargate before." He says this as a statement. Again, I shake my head. It still feels very strange to feel all my short little hairs swish back and forth. "Which means," Jack continues, "that you hadn't gone through Stargate 101." I look at him in confusion. "I'm going to take that as a 'No, I haven't'," Jack says looking at my face.

"No one is allowed to see the Stargate without a basic orientation and primer, Kira," Jack says softly. "Daniel is usually the one to give the introduction." Once again, my eyes begin to fill.

"Hey, stop that," Jack admonishes kindly. "My medals can't take any more moisture!" I just end up hiccupping back a sob. I still don't understand why Jack thinks I'm emulating Daniel, but I'm too tired to ask him to explain.

"You're welcome to come by Daniel's office anytime, Kira," Jack says, as he gives me another hug. "But we probably should clean it up a bit first." I know he's referring to any sensitive material that might be lying around, but I fall for the bait anyway.

"I like it just the way it is."

Talking with Jack (crying with Jack) actually does make me feel better. Feeling much lighter than I have in days, I let Jack escort me back to the elevators. Which is good really, as I'm not too sure I would have found them on my own.

"Kira," Jack begins somewhat awkwardly, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. "You are still going to work for us, right?" I almost wish I hadn't known Jack for five years. Then, maybe, I wouldn't hear how much he wants me to say yes. I don't know if it's for Daniel, or for Jack himself, but I hear so much need in that one little question, that it nearly breaks my heart. I don't know what to say.

"I don't know, Jack," I reply honestly. "Don't get me wrong, being able to work with alien languages and texts is pretty darn appealing, but it was Dan…" My voice cracks as I try to say his name. I quickly swallow the lump in my throat and will myself not to cry. Again.

"Daniel was the main reason I accepted the job," I finally manage to say. Jack nods in understanding.

"It's your decision, Kira," he says. "I just wanted you to know that we still would love to have you on board."

"Can I let you know tomorrow?" I ask.

"Of course," Jack replies. "Take all the time you need." I nod gratefully and step into the elevator. As it silently ascends, I think about Daniel and the work he did. I think about Daniel and the work he wanted me to do.

I exit into the cool night air and take a moment to stand under the stars. It's a beautiful clear evening and without the city's light pollution to dilute the skies, I can see stars as far as the eye can see. I stand there, looking upwards for several minutes, wondering how many of those suns Daniel had visited. Wondering if maybe some day, I'll have a chance to visit some of them. I'm not a religious person, but at that moment, I have the strangest sensation that Daniel is out there. I don't know if he's an angel, or just a bit of galactic dust, but I feel him around me. A light breeze, much warmer than the cool night air, ruffles my hair. Inexplicably, I feel lighter. I know what I need to do.

Decision made, I walk serenely back towards the sentry in order to officially sign out.

"See you tomorrow, miss?" the young officer asks, as I pick up the pen. I share with him my first genuine smile in days.

"You know what," I say, as I sign my pen and replace the cap. "I think you just might." Still smiling, I walk to my car and head home.

The End

Author's Notes: So sorry I couldn't give you notice about needing your hankies on this one, but that would have given it away! I hope you enjoyed (?!) this last Barista installment and that the much anticipated Meridian tag was worth the wait. This really is the last chapter in the Barista series - explanation follows in the Barista Addendum. Thank you all so, so much for an amazing thirty-five month journey!

I know this last story strayed from my, 'It must be canon' mantra, but I needed for there to be a memorial service in order for this story to end the way I envisioned. Thank you to everyone who informed me of where/when exactly Sam lamented [522 - Revelations], "With all due respect, Sir, I don't even understand how I feel. We didn't even have a memorial service." The SGC might now have had a Memorial Service, but The Barista did. I'm going to ask for your indulgence as I slyly slip over into AU-land and leave the Canon universe behind. It's just a small slip folks. Really.

Story completed November 1, 2005
Series completed: December 9, 2002 - November 1, 2005