Work Text:
February 4th, 1996
It was a cold, gray afternoon in Arlington National Cemetery, when a bright red motorcycle pulled into the parking lot in front of the Selfridge Gate. It rolled to a stop in an empty space, and its rider dropped the kickstand with the heel of their heavy brown boot, then shut off the engine. A moment later they doffed their helmet, ran a hand through their shoulder length-blond hair.
I really need a new hairstyle, Mary Ryan thought to herself. One that won't get too messed up by my helmet. Maybe I'll try a bob. Terry would probably go for that. But it's not like he'll have a choice. The recently-retired police detective allowed herself a smile at the thought of her new boyfriend. Well, not completely new. They'd been dating since last summer, so it still hadn't been a year, but time always seemed to slow down when she was with him...
After a moment, Mary shook her head and couched her helmet between the handlebars of her bike, the smile fading as fast as it had formed. Thoughts of Terry Bogard would have to wait until later, when she was alone in her hotel room. Right now, she had some place to be, some very important people to visit.
Her green-eyed gaze took in the view beyond the gate, at the well-kept rows of headstones honoring both the fallen military and other heroes of the nation's history, nestled beneath rows of trees which would normally provide shade for visitors, but were now naked of foliage. A slight breeze whipped past her, and Mary shivered a little against the chill of winter. Living in Florida for the last few years, she'd almost forgotten what this felt like, but fortunately when she'd planned this trip up north, she remembered to pack for it.
Underneath her familiar green jacket, Mary had swapped her usual crop top for a sweatshirt, and she also had a dark blue scarf wound around her neck. She reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out a pair of earmuffs, and after fixing them in place, dismounted her bike and started towards the gates, remembering to take the key from the ignition and slip it into the pocket of her baggy blue jeans.
Her reason for coming up north had been to return some stolen property to her grandfather, relics of the Suoh clan (her mother's family) that had been stolen by a young Geese Howard before Mary was born, which she had taken possession of after his defeat. But as she had recently resigned from the South Town Police Department, and had a lot of free time while she prepared for her next venture, she had spent an entire week in the area, both visiting with her grandfather at his dojo, and also catching up with friends of the family through her father's old job at the FBI, plus old colleagues from the DC Metro PD, Mary's first assignment out of the academy.
She hadn't even realized it until last evening, when she was having drinks with a friend who had been a cadet with her (and was now a detective in the DC Metro), but today was Mary's birthday. The main reason that had slipped her mind was because Mary hadn't been celebrating it since... the day she'd gotten the news.
The last time she'd celebrated a birthday was when she'd turned twenty. That was the party she'd met Butch at, a man who made her smile and laugh as no one had ever been able to do before. A man who taught her how to let down her barriers and really live. A man she would have gladly married, had he lived long enough to propose.
Almost eleven months to the day after they'd first met, Mary had gotten the call from the White House Chief of Staff that both Butch and her father had been killed in the line of duty, protecting the president from a terrorist attack. Just like that, they were gone because a bunch of radicals with AK-47s and stinger missiles hated the idea of equal rights for all people. After she'd lost them, Mary stopped caring about her birthday, as it only reminded her of the night her doomed romance began. When she'd transferred to South Town, Mary had gone so far as to tell her fellow officers that when her birthday came along she wanted no parties, cards or gifts, none whatsoever, and that she would lodge a complaint with human resources if anyone tried to celebrate it.
Yet, last night, when her old friend from the academy offered to take Mary out for a birthday dinner tonight with other coworkers from the DC Metro PD, the blond woman had surprisingly said yes. Maybe I am ready to start living my life again, she thought to herself. Guess I'll know soon enough. Still, before she celebrated anything, what she wanted most for her birthday was to spend it with two of the most important men in her life. She made her way respectfully through the rows of headstones, her boots crunching on the solid ground. There was no snow, but the soil and scant grass were frozen from the chill of winter.
After walking for what felt like almost a mile, Mary reached her destination: two large headstones of polished marble resting side by side under the shade of a thick oak. Or, what would have been shade during any other season. The branches looked almost skeletal now, stripped of their leaves.
She paused a few feet from the stones, and bowed her head. The name inscribed on the left stone was AGENT MARK RYAN, while its companion bore the name AGENT CHARLES “BUTCH” CAMPBELL. Though they were not military, the president had insisted the two men be buried with honors in Arlington, since they'd given their lives to save his own.
After a moment, Mary raised her head again, and unzipped the front of her jacket partway, just enough to procure a metal flask from the inside pocket. She unscrewed the top, then poured a measure of the whiskey inside onto the hard soil in front of her her father's grave. After a moment, she did the same for Butch. She then raised the flask at the marble headstones.
“Cheers,” she said softly, and then took a swig from the flask, feeling the inviting warmth of the alcohol slide down her throat, a pleasant contrast to the cold, dry air around her. She raised the flask again after finishing her drink. “To two of the four most important men in my life.” She overturned it again and poured a little more onto the ground in front of each grave, then took another sip.
“No, Butch, I haven't forgotten how to count,” she said to her old lover's tombstone as she capped the flask. “You heard me say four, and not three. That's... something I'll have to explain later. First, I need to talk to dad.”
Mary turned towards her father's grave. She took a deep breath, as if she felt that the man himself was standing in front of her in the flesh, then she started: “I love you, dad. I'm sure... I was a handful to raise. Mainly because I was never 'your little girl.'” She made a hand gesture as she said those words. “I think it was because... I don't have a lot of memories of mom, since I was so young when she died. Which meant that you and Grandpa had to raise me without her. And let's face it, even though I'm not a lesbian, I never fit what some stiff-shirted assholes would call the conventional mold for a girl or a woman in this society.”
She allowed herself a smile, then, remembering her father's reaction when she asked if she could go on a training journey as a sweet sixteen present. But the smile faded quickly, and she pressed on. “But... I've always respected you. You did the best you could, bringing up a daughter on your own. I remember, throughout my training, how you and Grandpa always said that we have a responsibility to help those who can't help themselves. I saw you live that philosophy every day, through your own work, and it... inspired me. It's why I became a cop, and now... it's also why I've resigned.
“My life... has gotten a lot more eventful in the last several months, dad.” Mary paused, and took another sip from the flask, remembering what happened last summer, Geese Howard's return to South Town, and his second death (this one a bit more permanent than the first). “I've made some new friends. Well... one of them is more than a friend. At first, I was going to arrest them all. You know, strictly by the book. But instead... I helped them right a wrong, and... in the process, I realized that... law and order are necessary, but... there will be times when... the police or the feds just can't get the job done. You need to think outside the box in order to do the most good.
“I'll never forget the morals you taught me. I'll still be helping people. But I feel... like going off on my own as a private investigator... that I can help them better than I'd be able to if I were behind a desk in a police department. I just hope you understand that... I'll always love and respect you. I just think that with my abilities, I can do more good operating on the fringes, in the 'gray areas' of the law.”
Mary poured a little more whiskey onto the ground in front of her father's grave, then she remembered what her grandfather had told her as Mary had departed from his dojo at the end of her visit with him: Your father would be proud of you, Chiisa Kin'iro no Kami, no matter what path you choose, because I am so proud of you.
The blond woman liked to think that was true. Even though she'd been a tomboy growing up, she always tried to remember her father's ideals. “Thanks for listening, dad,” she told him. “I'll keep trying to make you proud.”
She then turned towards the headstone of her former lover, and took a belt from the flask, in an effort to give herself some courage. A part of her had been dreading this conversation. She remembered a talk she'd had last summer with her friend, Mai Shiranui, who was a self-proclaimed “romance expert.” But the question Mai had put to Mary was actually a good one: Do you think Butch would have wanted you to live, or simply exist?
Mary had pondered that question over the last several months, and had never really been sure. As much as she loved Terry, a very small part of her was still scared she was cheating on her old, deceased flame. But hopefully after today she'd find what she was looking for. After a few deep breaths, she began: “I love you so much, big guy. I have ever since the night we met. You showed me how to really live, not just go through the motions – sleep, eat, work, repeat. I'd... been on a couple dates at that point in my life that didn't go anywhere, I lost my virginity in high school to some random dude whose name I can't remember, just because I wanted to get it over with and also to lose it on my own terms. I was on top, by the way. But... I never pictured myself in a serious relationship with anyone, it just didn't seem like who I was. I didn't feel I was capable of that. Then you turned my world upside down...”
She paused, then, realizing she was off to a bad start. Stop rambling, girl, she told herself. If Butch were standing in front of you now, he'd tell you to get to the point. He hated ramblers as much as you do. Mary smiled at that thought. Another deep breath, another sip from the flask, and she continued, a little more composed this time. “Listen, Butch, if our positions were reversed, if... I had been the one gunned down by some perp in the line of duty, and... you had to go on without me... I hope that you would remember what we had, how special it was... and that you would mourn me. But eventually, when enough time passed... I would want you to start living your life again. And I would... want you to be happy. Even if that meant... you wanted to take another chance at falling in love with someone.
“I've... I've met a guy. He's a fighter, like us. I... didn't want anything from him except friendship, at first, but... I love him. No... more than that, I'm in love with him. He makes me feel the same way you did, like it's okay to let my guard down, to smile and laugh, and just act like... a normal person. God, he makes me laugh so easily, without even trying.”
Mary forced herself to pause, then, to wipe away a tear at the corner of her eye, and also because she felt she was getting off-track. She glanced down at the flask in her right hand, started to raise it towards her lips... then when it almost there, she upturned it and poured a little more liquor onto the soil in front of Butch's grave.
“Yeah, that was your round. Sorry I've been hogging it. Plus I still have to drive and... well, you obviously don't.” She gave a small, nervous laugh, and after another moment, felt composed enough to proceed. “So, anyway... when I first lost you, I simply survived. But since Terry came into my life, I... feel whole again. Like I'm ready to start really living, the same way I did with you.” Her expression turned a little more serious, and she pointed a stern finger at the headstone. “Don't think for a second that I'll ever forget you, though. I could never do that. You were one in a billion. But there is a small part of me... that can't help but feel guilty. I know it's irrational, but... I just wish I could see you, speak to you one more time... just so I can hear you say you're okay with this.”
Mary stopped then, found herself remembering how Terry had visited the graves of his old lovers shortly after Geese Howard's defeat. Supposedly, the spirits of Lily McGuire and Sulia Gaudeamus had paid him a visit, and given Terry the closure he'd needed, the strength to move on. Mary believed him when he'd told her this, largely because throughout the course of her adventure with Terry and his friends, she'd seen proof that spirits were real, that there were planes of existence beyond the mortal one. She wished that Butch's spirit would come to her now, give her that same sense of closure.
A soft breeze whipped through the cemetery, then, the chill stinging Mary Ryan's eyes. She blinked rapidly, and through the haze of her vision, she thought that for a split-second, she saw a familiar figure standing by the graves, smiling at her, telling her without words that he was happy she was living her life again.
When Mary wiped her eyes and could see clearly again, however, she saw nothing there. But the blond woman still felt a sense of peace, all the same. Maybe she didn't need to see a ghost, because she already knew in her heart what Butch would say. She shut her eyes again and imagined it: I love you, Mary. I do want you to be happy. If this man completes you, then be with him. Love him as much as you possibly can. Don't be afraid to live your life, because it's not like you to just give up. We both know you're a lot stronger than that.
Mary's eyes slowly came open, and she laughed. “You're damn right I am. How many times did I kick your ass in practice matches?” She leaned in and planted a kiss on top of his headstone. “Thanks, Butch. I love you. A part of me always will. But... I am ready now.” She bowed her head again, let a few tears drop from her eyes onto the frozen soil, tears that were a mixture of sorrow and joy. She would always miss Butch, but also... to find a love like that once in a lifetime was more than most people could wish for. The fact that Mary had found that love twice made her feel extremely grateful. And she wasn't going to waste it, or feel guilty.
After the moment had passed, she spent another hour or so filling them in on other things in her life, but soon realized that it was getting late, and she'd have to meet her friends soon. She took another small sip of whiskey, then emptied the rest of the flask onto the ground in front of both graves. “Thanks for listening, guys,” she said with a nod. “I'll be back again someday.”
She then turned and started the walk towards her bike with a smile on her face. She just couldn't stop herself. She felt like she'd gotten what she came for, that she could now love Terry completely, without betraying Butch's memory. The wind picked up around her, but Mary hardly felt the chill. The smile was still on her features as she arrived back at her motorcycle, donned her helmet, and started the bike up again.
She drove out of the parking lot, on her way back to her hotel to get ready for dinner. She wasn't sure if anyone was bringing gifts tonight, but whether they did or not, either way it was fine with her. Mary Ryan had already gotten the best birthday present she could have asked for.
As she drove her bike down the road, a single thought permeated her mind, blanking out all others. I love you, Terry Bogard...
The End?